


More Than Just Saving the World

by EveryDayBella



Series: More Than Just Saving the World [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Adoption, Avengers Family, Domestic Avengers, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Kid Fic, M/M, Panic Attacks, baby's first year, commercials that change your life, its not really like that, stealing babies kinda, very little angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-04
Updated: 2015-11-24
Packaged: 2018-04-24 20:05:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 26,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4933519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EveryDayBella/pseuds/EveryDayBella
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve and Bucky are happy, healthy, and Avenging. It's a different world than the one they grew up in and they have options they don't even think about. Until one lazy afternoon while Bucky channel surfs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. How a Commercial Can Change Your Life

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AngelycDevil](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngelycDevil/gifts).



> It's my partner in crime birthday! This isn't what she really wanted, but it was the only thing I could get finished. Sorry Angelycdevil. Hopefully you'll still like this and I thank you for everything you do for me. You're the best. Mwah!
> 
> Anyway I'm a sucker for kidfic especially of the Stucky variety. There isn't enough of it either so here is my humble offering. I hope you all enjoy. It's almost finished. Should end up at about 4-5 chapters, but it is a series so there will be more. 
> 
> Also endless love to to MyHeroin for beting. Thank you!  
> Comments and kudos are love!

**Chapter One**

**How a Commercial Can Change Your Life**

****  


It all starts one lazy afternoon while Bucky channel surfs. The sun is coming through the wall window in Steve and Bucky’s Avengers Tower apartment. Bucky is stretched out across the couch like a lizard basking in the warmth. He isn’t paying too much attention to anything except Steve’s fingers, which are working their way through Bucky’s hair in short, rhythmic strokes.

_Scratch. Tug. Twist. Rub. Brush. Repeat._

Bucky is so out of it that he’s left the station alone, even though there are commercials on. Bucky hates commercials for the waste of space they are, but between the blissful warmth of the sunshine, and Steve’s fingers lulling him into a sweet, blissful relaxation, he really doesn’t care about the tv. So long as Steve doesn’t stop what he’s doing.

Then, completely out of the blue, Steve jerks. His whole body shakes with the force of miniature earthquake, successfully breaking Bucky out of his hypnosis. He cracks one eye open in an accusing glare at his annoying husband. “What the fuck was that?”

“Hum? Nothing.” Steve goes to great lengths not to look Bucky in the eye. It's a classic evasion move that Bucky has been able to see past since they were twelve, and Steve lied to his Ma about how he got that week's shiner. “Just a sudden breeze. Didn’t you feel it?”

“I didn’t feel a damn thing,” Bucky grumbles, debating whether or not to call Steve on his fib. In the end, he turns back to the television where the show is just coming on. Whatever it is, Steve will deal with on his own time.

He will come to regret that decision.

****  


* * *

****  


As the weeks go by, everyone in the tower, and that included Vision, who isn’t the best at reading human body language, figures out that something is bothering Steve. He’s moodier than normal and spends more time wailing on the punching bag in the gym. After he skips movie night for the fourth time in a row, the Avengers turn on the most obvious source of Steve’s agitation.

_They’re all a bunch of traitors_ , Bucky accuses.

“Okay, Robocop, what did you do to the Capsicle?” Tony’s lack of tact earns him a slap to the side of the head from Pepper, but no one takes the question back.

“I didn’t do anything.” Bucky bristles and crosses his arms over his chest. It's like his friends think he’s an idiot. “You’re not as clever as you think you are, Stark.”

Everyone ignores his deflections. _Assholes._ “You’re the one he’s usually mad at,” Clint offers with a grin.

“And you are the one he spends the most time with, obviously.” Nat grins.

Sam joins the game. “I know a good couples therapist, if you need one.”

“You all fucking suck, you know that right?”

“I would always be willing to give tips.”

“Pietro, I have been giving blowjobs since before you were a gleam in your grandmother's eye.”

The self righteous punk laughs. Bucky makes a mental note to give him hell the next time they’re in a training session together. “If none are you are going to help me, then shut up and let me enjoy the damn movie in peace.”

“You really didn't do anything wrong?” Clint asks, disbelief coloring his voice.

Bucky sighs and rolls his eyes. “No, I didn’t do anything. In case it's not clear enough, Steve isn't mad. He’s brooding over something.”

The Avengers manage to prove they are adults for a moment and offer sympathy and help should Bucky need it. They all agree they have no idea what's bothering Steve. There are no catastrophic dangers on their plates. In fact, things have been a little quiet for a while now. Steve should be enjoying the peace and comfort they’d been offered while it lasted. They list important dates and anniversaries that are coming up, but nothing rings a bell for Bucky. They talk about recent news stories that Steve might be steaming over, but Bucky knows he wasn’t reacting right for that. When Steve gets upset about something like that he explodes, rushing about to fix whatever needs to be fixed, or make sure whoever needs it gets the justice they deserve. This quiet thoughtfulness is something else, something he doesn't have a easy answer for, and it’s eating him alive.

Bucky is relieved when, after their movie, he ends up on the elevator with Natasha. Nat is level headed and has never lead him astray. Next to Steve, she’s the person he trusts the most.

“Just talk to him, Bucky,” she says, sympathetically. “I’m sure it's nothing important. Otherwise he would have told us. You two are such drama queens.”

“We are not.” Bucky huffs, but chuckles anyway. “Maybe just a little.”

“Just a little.” Natasha agrees and gives him a gentle push out of the door when it reaches his floor. “Good luck, Bucky.”

Bucky squares his shoulders and when he doesn’t see anyone in their kitchen he heads back to their bedroom. Steve is already in bed, curled up on his side and staring out the window. Bucky leans against the door jam, snickering when Steve jumps in surprise.

“Jerk,” the blonde mutters with a small smile.

“Punk. You missed a good movie.”

“Oh.” Steve looks away. “I just didn’t feel very good. What did you guys watch?”

“What’s Your Number?” Bucky climbs into the bed next to Steve, indulging himself with a kiss to Steve’s forehead. The Steve curls closer in response, and Bucky wraps an arm around his waist. He feels better having Steve in his arms. “It's about this dame who becomes obsessed with how many people she’s slept with.”

“Was it good?”

“Wasn’t bad. Tony thinks the actor who plays her love interest looks like you, and he was very disappointed you spoiled his fun.”

Steve chuckles, the most light hearted sound the man has released in weeks. Bucky grins like the dope he is and steals a kiss. “You really sure you’re okay, Steve?”

“I’m fine, Bucky.” Steve’s spine tenses with annoyance.

“See, here’s the thing, I know you’re lying.” Steve opens his mouth to argue, but Bucky snaps his finger over those lips. “I know you, Steve. I know when something is bothering you, and I know when you’re lying. I’m just saying, when you’re ready to talk, I’m here.”

“You’re not going to argue with me?” Bucky watches a smile blossom on Steve’s face. He can’t decide if Steve looks surprised or smug. “Who are you and what have you done with my Bucky?”

“Jackass.” Bucky flicks Steve’s nose. “I’m serious. I’m going to take the high ground and wait for you. I’m here okay?”

“Very big of you.”

“It is very big, thank you.”

“Bucky!” Steve shoves Bucky’s broad shoulders and laughs with vengeance when he almost falls off the bed. “Serves you right for making that awful joke in bed.”

Bucky doesn’t bother with a reply, just pushes himself up and tackles his husband into the mattress. His nimble fingers quickly find the sensitive spots he’s spent years mapping and dig in.

Steve squeals and tries to throw Bucky off, but is laughing too hard to put up much of a fight. The room is soon full of the sound of Steve begging for mercy and Bucky’s taunting laughter. When Bucky finally gives him some relief, he leans down and kisses his sweet lips. It doesn’t last long because Steve is already so out of breath, but Bucky loves the way Steve’s smile feels against his. He’d never pass it up.

“I love you.”

Steve’s eyes go warm and deep, the mirth leaving something awestruck in its place. He loves when Steve gets like this. When everything else disappears and he just lives in the moment. It's the best thing in Bucky’s world and proof his distraction has worked.

In fact, Steve doesn’t get to think about about whatever is bothering him for the rest of the night.

* * *

Steve smooths a non-existent wrinkle from his suit. The fact is that the body armour doesn't wrinkle, but it was an old nervous habit from his USO days. Makes him feel a little better at least about the butterflies in his stomach.

To be strictly honest, this is his least favorite part of the job. Standing with just his shield on the battle line was one thing, a skill set he is more than comfortable with, and what he had been born to do.

Smiling for cameras with a bunch of adoring fans? That’s something else and nothing he'd ever gotten comfortable with.

Avengers PR days are something Pepper insisted on because they piggy backed on Stark Industries so much. Darcy did the work to put them together and they always went off without a hitch. That doesn't mean Steve has to enjoy it.

"God, Steve, don't look like you're heading off to the gallows. It's supposed to be fun, remember?" Tony grins, ridiculous in bright red armour and his Ray-Bans. Steve is instantly jealous of Bucky, Clint, and Natasha, whose outfits were designed to blend in.

"Pretty sure this is not my idea of fun." Steve goes back to fidgeting, this time with his hair. Darcy is going to be pissed if he messes it up.

Tony shrugs and waves him off. "It's just giving the people what they want. It's better than being covered in alien guts, you know."

"Tony, I would rather be fighting aliens."

"No sense of fun, I tell you." Tony grouches good naturally, and then he gets that look on his face that says he’s trying to be serious. Never a good sign. "Look, we all know you're over thinking something."

"We all know?"

"Yes, we all know. Now would you shut up for two minutes and let me finish?" Steve mimes zipping his lips just to get a rise out of Tony. It's too much fun to pass it up. "Jackass. Anyway, you should know that whatever is bothering you, we're all here to help. And if we can't, then that guy over there mission in life is to make you happy."

Steve can't help smiling when he sees who Tony has singled out. Bucky's head is thrown back, laughing at something Clint said. His blue eyes are just a shade or two lighter than a spring storm sparkling with happiness. The first couple of times Bucky had been part of their PR days he'd been an anxiety riddled mess. These days he reveled in the attention. It’s the closest Steve got to seeing the Bucky he knew from before the war. Something in his sweetheart came alive when he got to be a center of attention.

Tony clears his throat, and Steve remembers that they were talking. “It’s nothing Tony, really. I’ve just got something on my mind.”

It wasn’t a lie. If hadn’t been for that damn commercial he might have been able to forget it by now. Instead, it’s haunting his every waking moment and even a few of his dreams, if he’s being honest. He needs to talk to Bucky about it, but he doesn’t know how to broach the subject. He doesn’t want Bucky to think he isn’t happy, because that couldn't have been farther from the truth.

“I know, Tony. I haven’t meant to worry everyone. It's just something I need to talk to Bucky about.”

Tony eyes him skeptically, but for once doesn’t say anything. Steve has to admit, if Tony knows there's something going on, then Steve has waited way too long to say something. Time to find some courage and just talk to Bucky about it. He’ll understand.

"Alright Avengers, front and and center." Darcy orders like a brightly colored drill sergeant. "I want a picture."

Most of them groan under the force of Darcy's enthusiasm while Thor goads everyone into joining. He pulls Jane with him, Tony hooks Pepper, Clint makes faces at an unimpressed Natasha, Wanda and the Vision watch with an amused smiles, as Pietro keeps flittering from spot to spot too fast for anyone to catch him. Steve chuckles, amused, wondering what source of fate had thrown them all together.

He jumps when a arm winds around his waist. The presence pushes up against his back, and Bucky pops his chin on his shoulder. Steve sinks into his chest and can’t help smiling as Bucky kisses his cheek. “Whatcha thinking so hard about, babydoll?” Bucky whispers.

Steve shrugs. This is hardly the place to talk about what's been on his mind. “I was just remembering a time when I felt like I didn’t belong here and how I was happy that the friends that I had were happy, but looking at them happy also hurt. Know what I mean?”

Bucky hums and nods, nose brushing the tender skin of Steve’s neck, sending shivers down the blonde's spine. Steve leans his head back, finding the solid warmth of Bucky’s shoulder and his grey eyes smiling over at him. “And now?”

“Now I’ve got you.” Steve says, smiling himself, letting the overwhelming love spread through him. “I get a second chance at us and that makes me happy. It doesn’t hurt anymore and for the first time it feels like we really belong somewhere even if it is seventy years out of our own time.”

Bucky’s leans forward, steals the air from Steve’s lungs in a kiss just gentle enough that he can feel the emotions pouring off him, but just hard enough to leave him breathless. If Steve is being honest, he will admit to it being his favorite kind of kiss. Unrestrained and wild, yet still calm enough that it can be seen in public. Not that they’ve always been careful about the public eye.

“Okay, okay, enough necking.” Darcy’s smirking voice cuts through their haze. They have the good grace to blush and mutter their apologies while their teammates titter. Darcy is holding her phone, trying to fit them all in frame, and Steve remembers when it was just the six of them and getting into the frame was almost easy. This might be more difficult, but the addition of Wanda, Pietro, The Vision, Sam, and Bucky feels somehow right. Complete. “Petro stand still or you’ll be blurry and I won’t send it to your fangirls Tumblr messages. Okay, three, two, one,  say CHEESE.”

Steve will see the picture later, when he gets on to his own Twitter, and he ends up asking for a copy from Darcy. He has no idea, but it’s the first of a great many family pictures to clutter up his office desk.

****  


* * *

What no one had expected when Bucky officially joined the Avengers and began doing PR was that kids would absolutely adore him. Bucky is easily the scariest of them. Tony blames it on his “resting bitch face.” Natasha has been slightly more diplomatic when she’d pointed out his silver arm that his uniform made no effort to hide. Bucky himself had been a bit apprehensive about it in the beginning, always trying to shuffle them off to Steve or Natasha, but these days he thrived in it. Practically encouraged it. He shows off his arm, offer hugs, always has a grin and compliment about their shirt or hair ready to go. He’s become a show all unto himself. Parents will watch wide-eyed as this ex-assassin plays with their children like the child he secretly is.

Steve watches, smiling as Bucky shows off the strength in his metal arm by picking one them up for a picture. Steve can clearly remember when that would have been impossible, when Bucky was too freaked about the weapon he’d never asked for to touch anything, much less a child. Yet, here he was anyway. It makes Steve remember Bucky’s younger sisters, and the way he used to be around them—caring, doting, and protective. It was all in this wide open smile that Steve rarely saw anymore.

Steve will watch Bucky with the kids as much as he can because he gets to see a side of Bucky he hasn’t since nineteen forty-three, and he misses it.

It wouldn’t have gone any farther than that, if Steve hadn’t seen that damn commercial. Suddenly watching Bucky ask a five year old who her favorite Avenger is and laughing when she tells him the Hulk is so much more personal.

That could be them. It isn’t the nineteen forties anymore. They’ve been married for a couple years already. They work together, live together, love each other unconditionally. They certainly aren’t poor anymore. Steve often gets sick looking at their bank account.

After taking a picture, the girl gives Bucky a hug and her parents shuffle her off farther down the line. Steve is surprised by the pang in his chest as the father picks the girl up so she can chatter excitedly in his ear with big smile on both their faces. That can be them. There’s nothing stopping them. They’re sable and careful. Sure, their jobs are a little odd, but they can work around that.

That can be them with a daughter balanced between them, or a boy tugging on their hands.

For a moment, Steve is overwhelmed,. The thought has been floating around his head for weeks, but this is the first time it's been this in focus. A dark head boy with Bucky’s eyes, or a girl with a mischievous smirk on her face. Their kid. Kids. Their family to love, cherish, and care for. Steve’s heart is pounding with yearning, want, and just a smidge of guilt. After all he, just told Bucky he is happy, and he is, but what if there’s something more meant for the two of them?

What if they were saved for more than saving the world?

Steve has to force himself to focus on more than just his epiphany. He throws himself into his role, shaking hands, smiling, and responding to being called Captain America instead of Steve. His own gaggle of kids wanting hugs and autographs are the worst, because he can’t look at them without choking up and imagining blond hair and grey-blue eyes. Steve’s a good actor, so he’s able to act pretty normal and not blow his own cover. He does intercept a few worried glances from Sam and wonders if he isn’t covering as well he thought.

Within an hour or so, the crowds have thinned. Steve is just about to escape out to the back and get himself under control before he had to face Bucky again, when his husband called him over. Steve takes a deep breath, forcing himself to keep a straight face and not let his near panic and excitement show. He and Bucky need to talk now more than ever and this isn’t the place.

Bucky grabs his hand when he’s close enough and launches into introductions. “Steve, this is Carrie and Melissa, and their daughter Joey.” The mothers stand on either side of a girl who can’t be any more than twelve, but looks much smaller. Steve feels a distant ache as he shakes her hand and notices the bones showing in her thin wrists and narrow cheeks. Behind her mother's pleasantness, Steve sees their nerves and worry as well. “Joey here has a heart murmur like yours. She didn’t believe me, called me a liar, so I need you to defend my honor.”

Steve rolls his eyes, and the smiles at the girl. “He lays it on a bit thick, doesn’t he?”

“He does.” Joey giggles and sticks her tongue out at Bucky who mimics the motion back. Steve’s steady heart skips a beat. “Is it true, though? Did you have a heart murmur like mine?”

Steve nods, uncomfortable and uncertain what he should say. “I used to. My Ma was really worried about for most of my childhood.”

Joey steps closer and Steve leans down to hear her whisper. “My Mom and Mama are really worried, too. All the time, but I feel okay most of the time.”

Steve glances up at the women and remembers his own mother sitting by his sick bed. “I’m sure they do. It’s cause they love you.”

“I know they do.” Joey rolls her eyes with the insulted air of the pre-teen. “I just wish they wouldn’t worry so much. I’m fine.”

Bucky chuckles, over hearing, and Steve sends him a warning look. He knows what the man is thinking, that Steve had something similar before. Steve won’t apologize for it and neither should Joey. “I think that’s part of being a parent, but probably you could help. I had asthma, and my Ma would have a heartache if I went out of the apartment without my inhaler.”

“You didn’t?”

“Oh, I did. He had to save my life a couple of times.”

Bucky winks at her full of smug pride.

“I guess that’s not so bad.” Joey shrugs.

“It’s not.” Steve agreeds. “You can still do anything you want. You just have to be careful. And listen to your mothers. They do know what’s best for you.”

“I’ll try.” She shrugs, but he can see through the indifference. “Thanks, Steve.”

“Anytime, Joey.”

He and Bucky take a picture before they leave. Afterwards, Bucky turns on Steve, looking as worried as Melissa and Carrie had. “Everything okay, Stevie? You look kinda like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“I’m fine.” Steve snakes an arm around his waist and pulls Bucky close, feeling a measure calmer. “We need to talk later, though.”

“Nothing wrong?”

“No. Nothing wrong. Promise. We just need to talk.”

Bucky shrugs, trusting. Steve swallows around a nervous lump in his throat. Hopefully Bucky wouldn’t think him crazy for this.

* * *

“You want me to watch a commercial?” Bucky lets himself be pushed into the dining room table in front of a laptop. Steve has been acting strange ever since they got back from the PR shoot. He even passed on their traditional wind down shower. Instead, he’s been passing up and down the hall and sitting in front of this computer. As minutes ticked into hours, Bucky had grown ever more worried. He’d known there was something on Steve’s mind for weeks, but it was truly bothering him now. Bucky didn't know what it was about, but his paranoia had been spiraling out of control for the past thrity minutes. Steve wouldn’t throw him out, would he? No, no, till the end of the line Bucky, remember? Steve couldn’t leave on his own. Oh God, please not that. Bucky must have done something wrong. Just tell me what it is and I’ll fix it I promise.

What he had not expected is for Steve to sit him into front of the laptop with a commercial for crackers on the screen. “Steve, what is this?”

“Just trust me, okay?” Steve’s looks so wrung out and nervous that Bucky doesn’t have the heart to tease him. He nods, and Steve leans over him to play the video. As far as commercials go it's not bad, sweet and sentimental. Scenes of unconventional parents and their kids. Bucky thinks it is kinda cute, but he has no idea where Steve is going with it. “What do you think?”

“I thought it was a commercial, Stevie? What, are we outta graham crackers?”

“No.” Steve sighs and sinks into the chair next to him. “The first two scenes.”

“The ones with the two guys and the baby, yeah.”

“I was watching it the other day.” Steve very carefully keeps his head down, so that Bucky can’t read his face. Bucky lets it go for the moment, allowing Steve to get on with his point. “And I got to thinking about it, cause that’s something that's okay now. You see it all the time. Same-sex couples get to have kids and families. I was watching you today during the PR thing and you are so good with kids and I was just thinking...”

Steve trails off, his blue eyes peaking out from underneath blond bangs. Bucky’s frozen as he puts Steve’s fragmented words together. Part of him doesn’t want to believe it, and the other part wants to launch himself into Steve and thank him for being exactly as he was. He settles for using words instead. “Steve, do you wanna have a baby?”

His cheeks turn red, but he nods. “Yeah, I mean, we can afford it. We have a home, and we’re stable.”

“We are?” Bucky blurts out skeptically.

“We are.” Steve’s voice is full of steal and his eyes determined. “You are so good, Bucky. How long has been since you had a panic attack or a full blown episode?”

“I had a nightmare two nights ago.”

“But even those aren’t so bad anymore. Bucky, if anyone deserves this, it's you.”

Bucky isn't quite sure what to say to that since he hardly feels like he deserves anything, especially something so precious. It's hard enough touching Steve some days with all the blood on his hands. A baby, a tiny, pure life that he would be responsible for. That's just not something he's sure he can do.

He doesn't know how to say it all to Steve so he tries a different tactic. "What about our jobs? We're Avengers. That's not going to change."

Steve shrugs, but his voice is clearly telling Bucky that he's thought about that. "I know that. It doesn't mean that we don't get life's of our own. We got married, didn't we?"

Bucky nods as if the gold ring on his silver finger isn't proof of that.

"This is no different. Just because we're Avengers doesn't mean that our lives stop. Besides, we rarely go on missions together because you're always out with Nat. We'd just have to put more thought into when we're gone and here."

"Well that's all fine and good, but if we have a kid they become a target for Hydra and God knows what else."

Steve flinches and Bucky feels bad. He isn't trying to be a bastard about this, it had just unsettled him. That doesn't mean that he got to take it out on Steve. "Sorry, that was rude."

"It was blunt," Steve corrects with a gentle smile. "And I get it, but we all have soft soft spots that are targets for the people we fight. Thor has Jane and Darcy, Tony has Pepper. Hell Bucky, we've got Peggy since she can't take care of herself these days. We all pitch in and take care of what's ours. Not that I'm saying any of them belong to us."

"I get what you're saying, Steve." Bucky sighs heavily, trying to wrap his head around this. "It's not that I'm against the idea, because I'm not. I'm really not. I just, this is a big step, Stevie, and if anything ever happened because of us, I don't think I could forgive myself."

"I get it." Steve scoots his chair closer to Bucky and places his hands on both of Bucky's cheeks. Bucky leans into his touch, nuzzling his palm. "All I'm asking is that you think about it. Nothing else. I think this could be good for us. I like watching you with kids and thinking that it could be our kid that you're holding. We'll it's a dream I never thought I would get, but here we are anyway."

"You're a damn sap, Rogers."

"You love it and you know it." Steve kisses his lips, soft and slow before pulling away. "No matter what, I love you. Nothing will ever change that."

“Till the end of the line.” Bucky whispers back, confidence surging through him. No matter what at the end of the day it will always be him and Steve together against the world and nothing will change that.

* * *

“I just don’t know what to do?” Bucky moans and buries his head in his arms on the table.

“James, don’t be so melodramatic,” Natasha reprimands and pours him another shot of vodka as Bucky bemoans not being able to get drunk. In fact, It’s a crying shame.

Bucky downs the shot and listens to the sound of the tv in the other room. Clint, Natasha, and Bucky had gotten back from a mission eighteen hours before hand and Bucky is already on their floor, sitting in their kitchen, and whining to Natasha. Everything he’s been stressing over for weeks is finally coming pouring out and Bucky had gone to find a sympathetic ear that isn’t Steve with his hopeful, blue eyes. Clint is at least laid up on the couch watching Dog Cops and not privileged to Bucky’s latest meltdown.

“I’m not trying to be. I’m really want to give Steve an answer, but I’m so mixed up that I have no idea what the answer should be.”

“First off,” Natasha arches one graceful eyebrow at him. “It's what you want the answer to be, not should be. Now, start from the beginning.”

Bucky has already told her about Steve wanting to have a kid, so that isn’t the beginning she wants. No, she’s worst than any therapist he’s ever seen. She wants to know what he thinks about it. It’s the reason that he came to her, but that doesn’t mean that she’s going to get a straight answer out of him.

“I don’t know, that’s the problem.” Bucky plays with the shot glass, watching the remaining clear liquid roll around the bottom. “I mean, it's a great idea in theory, but in real life, us?”

“Yes, you.” Natasha’s green eyes look pointedly at him. “Why not you?”

Bucky rolls his eyes, glaring across the table. “You know my past better than anyone, Natalia. You’re the only one around here who seems to remember that I was a monster. I was. There is no denying it.”

“Was being the operative word. That’s your past. This is your present. That could be your future.”

Bucky growls and spins the glass across the table top. His therapists have been trying to get him to work on subtle ways to let out his aggression. It’s better than slamming his fist into the table. “My past is kinda a big deal, Natalia, and I know it.”

“You and I both know that if we let our past dictate our every action then we would never get out of bed. There wouldn’t be a point. We’re murderers, liars, and bad guys and that’s all we’ll ever be. But, if that were so, then how could someone so good, love us?”

Bucky flushes in shame. He gets it, he’s walking old paths. Steve loves him for who he is, finds something good in the wreck he’d been, and Bucky finds the good in himself because of it. He’s been forgiven for the past and it’s time to move on. “Fair point.”

“Good.” Natasha smiles and relaxes back into her chair. “What next on your mind, котенок?”

“Well, there is still the not so small matter of our jobs.”

“That one you have a fair point with.”

“Thank you!” Bucky exclaims throwing his arms wide in relief. “Steve is all “we can work it out”, but he’s completely missing the part where we make the kid a target just by having him.”

“On the other hand, depending on where you adopt from, he can be better off with you.”

“Maybe.” Bucky shrugs. “But it doesn’t change the fact that we’re Avengers and we put ourselves in harm's way regularly, and neither of us are the safest people come to think of it. We could adopt the kid, and then die. How fair would that be?”

“What the hell are you two talking about?” Clint ambles into the room, limping on his right foot and covered in cuts and bruises. He claims that he’s a lot better than he looks. Bucky doesn’t buy it.

“Steve and Bucky are thinking about having a child, and Bucky is on the fence.”

“Natalia,” Bucky sputters, shocked at hearing it spoken so clearly. It's the simplest Bucky has heard it put and his heart starts pounding away at his chest. He’s not sure if its excitement or nerves.

“Awesome.” Clint nods and heads toward the refrigerator. “I think that's a great idea.”

“You what?” Bucky runs after Clint, flabbergasted. “How can you think this a good idea?”

“You and Steve are both adults and more than capable of supporting a herd of kids. Is herd the right word?”

“We also have extremely dangerous professions and live in the middle of a Manhattan eye sore. We put everyone in danger.”

Clint snorts, pours a cup of cold coffee, and pushes himself to sit on the cabinet with a grunt. “Let me ask you something, Bucky, if you had a kid would you love it with every fiber of your being?”

Bucky doesn't have to think about the answer. “Of course.”

“And would you protect it, treasure it, teach it, and, I can’t make this one clear enough, protect it?”

“Of course.”

“And would you ever lift a finger to harm it?”

“Of course not.” Bucky sputters.

“Then you’ll make a fine parent. Do it.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“It is exactly that simple, Bucky.” Clint slams his mug down, and Bucky has the good sense to shut up and listen. He has never seen Clint this serious about anything. “Take it from me, I was an abused kid, okay? My dad was a drunk asshole and my brother and I ended up orphans. We had to scrape for everything we got and before SHIELD found me, I was running with a crew of thieves. My childhood sucked, so as far I’m concerned, if you can promise to take good care of a kid and treat it right, you can have as many as you like. We gotta stop calling it “it”. Makes it sound like Lucky.”

Clint storms out of the room, more agitated than Bucky had ever seen him. He wants to call him back and apologize, but he’s struck dumb.

“He’s right, you know?” Natasha offers with a sympathetic smile. “Nobody can guarantee safety. Not us, not the guy who lives in the suburbs. If you and Steve do this, yes, it will be dangerous, but on the other hand, think about the family you have backing you up. I wouldn’t be afraid to do whatever needed to be done and everyone one else living in this tower would feel the same way. You’ve seen how protective Tony can be, and Thor. Do you really think that Sam, or Wanda, or Vision wouldn’t do the same thing?”

Bucky shakes his head, because of course they would. They would defend each other to their last breaths if that was what it took. Looking at it that way, Bucky is seeing a lot of hope and potential were he has only seen obstacles.

“Obviously, it's still your choice.” Natasha shrugs and turns back to their half full bottle of vodka. “You’d be an idiot not to, but that’s just my opinion.”

“What would I do without you, Natalia?” He stands up to give her big hug from behind.

“You’d be lost.” She smirks at him, sparkling with mischief and made just a hint of sadness. “Do you want to finish this, or not.”

“I think Steve and I need to have a talk.”

****  


* * *

Three days later, Bucky and Steve are calling an adoption agency.

 


	2. What to Expect When You're Expecting Russian Winters

**Chapter 2**

**What to Expect When You’re Expecting a Russian Winter**

Of course, it's not a fast system even for Captain America and the Winter Soldier.

There’s a boy named Misha in an orphanage in Russia. He’s three months old. Bucky and Steve are in love with the three pictures they've gotten. They don't have final permission yet, but they’re keeping their hopes up that this one wouldn't fall through.

Tony finds Steve and Bucky on their floor by the sound of their arguing.

"Steve, it clearly says that peg A attaches to slot 4 with the triangle tool. How difficult is that to understand?"

"Incredibly because that's not what it says, jerk."

"That's exactly what it says. What else is it supposed to say?"

"Boys, boys," Tony holds his hands up as he slanters into the room to find the super soldiers sitting on the floor surrounded by a sea of brightly painted wood pieces in varying degrees of assembly. "Ask and ye shall receive. I have arrived."

Bucky merely growls at him and turns back to the paper instructions in his lap. Steve is the one to greet him. "If we had wanted a crib that flies, we would have called you, Stark."

"You wound me." _As if that were even possible_ , Bucky muses.

"It's from Ikea. We'd be better off calling Thor."

"Only if you want that hammer to turn all this into sawdust." Tony snatches the instructions from Bucky's hand and peruses them with a critical eye. "There has to be an easier way to put all this together. Red, white, and blue boys, really?"

Bucky pointed an accusing finger at his husband, who turned nearly as red as the slats on the crib. "It's cute," Steve defends with a huff. "We called you down here to help us put it together, not critique our choices."

"Alright, outa the way. I'm an engineer. I build things. Plywood can't scare me."

Three hours later, after they've recruited most of the Avengers, they still have a pile of sticks. Bucky would like to pull his hair out and Steve doesn't look too much better. Tony is griping about instructions that don't match up, Clint is wise cracking, Natasha looks about ready to strangle someone, and everyone else is somewhere between confused and amused.

Bucky sighs. "I told you we should have bought the one that was already put together."

"On Asgard, things are not hardly so difficult."

"We'll, I'm glad you have it all figured out, Thor," mutters Tony as he continues try and sort through slats and boards. "Maybe you can come down here and help, big guy."

"I wouldn't dare inpune your honor, Stark. I thought you could build anything?"

Tony grumbles while they all laughed at his discomfort. Bucky picks up a pole to twirl around his metal fingers and watches as his friends bicker about how to make his son's crib.

At least he hopes it's his sons. They've had two adoptions fall through already, and Bucky isn't ready to deal with another one.

Bucky had thrown himself wholeheartedly into a family. Steve has reminded him several times over the last two years that he had to be patient. After the last one had fallen through just days before they were scheduled to meet the child, Bucky had gotten worse than before. He’s tired of being in limbo, of family being a someday thing.

The real problem is that Bucky falls in love too quickly. He's had his heart broken twice, and he knows that Steve isn't too much better. He can't handle another disappointment.

He supposes that it would have been easier if they'd done an in country adoption, but they'd decided it would be safer to do an international adoption. Less of a chance of anyone finding out before they were ready. It had also increased the chances of something falling through.

Bucky also doesn't quite know what to think about this latest one. Misha is in Russia. Bucky has stayed up late several nights discussing the irony with Natasha.

Regardless, Bucky is just ready for the moment when the nursery isn't filled with his friends, but instead has a finished, flag colored crib and their son.

Steve's phone rings, and he takes it out to the hallway. Bucky is snickering and egging Tony along because if he has to suffer through this hell, then he's going to take somebody down with him. Jane and Thor have the instructions now, with Wanda peering over their shoulders. Nat claims a place on the carpet next to him. She doesn't say anything, but Bucky can feel the waves of contentment flowing off her. It reminds Bucky of the peace they've managed to find in this strange life. He doesn't have to rush toward the next thing. It'll be okay.

Bucky pats her knee, and they watch their friends turn into a raging mob over Ikia.

"If you had just told me, I could have built you something better than this pile of sticks."

"No offence, Tony, but we didn't want a crib with jet packs. Besides, building it is part of the experience."

"Experience?" Bucky has known Pietro long enough to recognize that spark of trouble in his eyes. "I don't see you helping us build the thing."

Bucky shrugged. "I don't have to when I have so many brilliant friends."

"Way to butter us up, Buck," Darcy complains.

"Anytime, buttercup."

The barbs start flying back and forth too fast for Bucky to keep up with. Somewhere in the middle of all of this, Steve peaks his head in through the doorway. Bucky immediately feels the blood drain from his face. He hates that look. That looks says there's trouble, and Bucky can't handle more trouble. Why can't just one thing in his life go smoothly?

He jumps to his feet and rushes to the doorway, allowing Steve to pull him back out to the hallway where it's quieter and private. Bucky notices the phone pressed his chest and figures he must have someone on hold.

"There's been a hiccup." The tight lines drawn across Steve’s face are for more than just a hiccup. Something's gone very wrong, and Bucky wants to snap at him to stop sugarcoating things. "The orphanage Misha is at is having to close. Mrs Taylor says she can rush his paperwork through by virtue of our names, but she can't get him from Russia."

"Unless?" Bucky growls, hands in tight fists even, though he has nothing to fight. They've been preparing for this for months, they're already in love with the chubby cheeks and blue eyes that are in the pictures they've received and for a third time, everything is about to fall through. Bucky blinks back angry tears and will tear down the world if it can save that boy from this. God knows what happens to a baby in a Russian orphanage when it closes.

Steve's free hand cups his cheek, calming him with a touch, and he can see the determination in Steve's crystal blue eyes. This isn't over yet. "Unless we can get to Russia, get Misha, and stay until the paperwork is finalized. How fast can we get to Russia?"

"If we take a quinjet, just a matter of hours."

Steve keeps his gaze locked on Bucky's face as he puts the phone back to his ear. "Mrs Taylor? Yes, we're on our way now."

* * *

Clint offers to fly for them, but they turn him down. They don't know how long they will have to stay in Russia, and they don't want to leave the Avengers anymore short handed than they already are. Instead, Steve watches Bucky's tease frame in the pilot's chair. They don't talk with fear, worry, and nerves freezing up their lungs. Steve keeps an internal countdown going—hours and minutes since they'd left.

Their adoption agency tells them that once an orphanage closes, things happen very quickly. They’ll have most of the kids shipped off or turned out in days. The younger ones first, and Misha is three months old. They’ll move him to another orphanage in another city if they don't get there first. Steve will hunt his son across the wilds of Russia if he has to, but he wants him in his arms now. The sooner the better.

Through the haze of planning and even more planning, Steve takes notice of how tense Bucky is, how tight a hand he has around the controls, how his eyes dart rapidly back and forth, and the furrows in his brow. They are just about to come down in the outskirts of Moscow when it clicks in Steve's head.

"Bucky." He waits for wide, terrified blue eyes to meet his before he continues. "Nothing is going to happen to us in Russia. No one is even going to know we're here. Once we get Misha, we're going to lay low. I promise, nothing will happen to you."

Steve doesn't have to say the words Hydra or the KGB for Bucky to know what he's talking about. Russia holds old scars for the Winter Soldier that he doesn't want to face. With Steve’s promise, he’s able to push those to the side and focus on the now.

Job number 1. Save their son.

Job number 2. Let no one know they’re in Russia. The Russian government would not be happy to find out two Avengers are on their spoil unauthorized.

Fortunately, SHIELD has an old safe house twelve clicks outside of Moscow. Secluded in a stand of trees there is just enough room for Bucky to put down the quinjet and turn on the cloaking device. They’re all business as they load the four by four they find in the garage. Steve's shield and Bucky's rifle are hidden in the back seat under a blanket along with extra supplies they would need for the journey. Steve climbs into the driver's seat, and they’re off again.

The orphanage is in a little village fifty miles from Moscow. As they get farther from civilization, the roads get worse. Steve pushes the SUV as fast he dares, but he can feel Bucky’s frustration anyway.

He's subtly surprised when Bucky chuckles. "Care to share what's so funny?"

"It's not really funny." Bucky shakes his head, and Steve reaches out a free hand to hold Bucky’s left hand tightly in his. Bucky gives him a grateful smile. "I just never expected to be back in the heart of Russia in the dead of winter."

Steve snorts. "I meant it. I'm going to get us all out of here."

Bucky's fingers squeeze around his own. "I know. I'm okay, really. Just ready to get this all done with."

"Well, you can't think anything we will do will go the easy way, right?"

Bucky snorts, but the ghost of a smile appears as well.

Four hours later, they’re pulling into a tiny, decrepit village covered in snow. There are three rows of houses with a large church in the middle. The buildings all look like they’re about to fall down. The few people on the street look at their car with dull, tired eyes. Steve's heart breaks remembering all too well this level of poverty. Of not knowing where the next meal is going to come from, or whether you'll be warm through the night. Steve wants to help, wishes there was something he could do, but he's here for something more important.

If that makes him selfish, then he doesn't care.

He pulls the car up in front of the church. Bucky pulls a pair of gloves over his hands, hiding the metal, and is the first out of the car. He jogs over to a tired looking nun while talking in rapid fire Russian. Steve hangs back until Bucky is turning around to him.

"She says the orphanage is on the other side and that some of the kids are still there. She doesn't know if they’re babies or not."

It takes everything in them not to run, to walk and not race. Steve can feel the nervous energy running through him and knows Bucky must be feeling it, too. This is it. Either they'll be leaving here with their son, or they'll be following him to the next village. After years and months of waiting, it feels good to be doing something for a change.

The orphanage proves to be a grey block of a building with three stories and an ice coated yard. Another nun, this one older with a stern face, eyes Bucky skeptically as he explains why they’re here. Steve catches enough of Bucky's Russian that he knows he’s having to talk the woman into it. Steve can understand. Here they are, two men wanting to take one of their kids. She doesn't seem to believe that they’re from the adoption agency. They don't have any paperwork to prove it. Steve’s about to force his way through when Bucky slips a roll of green to the nun. After that, she’s more than willing to lead them inside.

"Bucky," Steve hisses as they’re guided through narrow, cold hallways. "Did you bribe her?"

Bucky shrugs. "It worked, didn't it?"

The inside of the orphanage is cramped and cold. Dust clings to the corners and there isn't a lot of color. It’s mostly empty now, but in a few rooms there still children with wide, scared eyes. Steve wants to stop and do something, anything, but he needs to stay focused. They have to get Misha out of here. That’s the goal.

On the ground floor is what passes for a nursery. The walls are painted an olive green. The only warmth came from a wood burning fireplace, and it’s quickly lost in the draft. There are five metal cribs with at least two children in each, one of them with three. It’s disheartening, and Steve wishes they'd just come sooner.

Bucky’s speaking to the old nun again, but Steve isn't listening. He takes slow steps across the room, toward the crib underneath the window. He recognizes his baby on sight. He'd been texted a few pictures the month before. Soft, dark hair, bright blue eyes, a tiny button nose, and pale, wrinkled skin. He and Bucky have spent hours staring at those pictures, dreaming about the moment they will be able to hold him and keep him safe themselves.

At that moment, little Misha's face is red from the cold air and crying. He isn't making a sound now, but there’s still moisture in his cheeks and a pained expression on his face. Steve doesn't think twice before he pulls the tiny bundle into his arms. Misha let lose a pathetic little wail, but otherwise stays quiet. Steve tucks him against his chest and traces his chubby cheeks with a bare finger tip, and worries about what he feels there.

"Bucky," Steve interrupts the other man's conversation while struggling to tame his growing rage. "We need to get him out of the cold."

Bucky eyes went flat and restrained as he turned back to the nun. This time his voice is short, harsh, and though Steve couldn't make out the exact words, he gets the gist. They’re taking this baby, and Bucky will come back with worse if they don't take proper care of the kids left.

The old nun screams after them as they all but race out of the room. Steve doesn't feel himself relax until he’s back in car, this time in the passenger's seat while Bucky pulls out of the village.

"Tell me where I'm going." Bucky's voice is still tense with worry and starting to crack around the edges. "Does he need a hospital?"

"I don't think so." Steve reaches behind him and pulls one the spare blankets from the back seat. "Just go back to the safe house."

"Is he okay? Should he be crying?" The worry finally wins out, and Bucky looks over with wide, terrified eyes. Steve snickers, turning the heat all the way up and wrapping the new blanket around himself and Misha to hold the heat in.

"He's fine, Buck. Just asleep." His little lips are parted, and he’s starting to feel warm in his arms. Steve allows himself a relieved smile and a sigh. "He’s okay."

"Course he is. He's got you, doesn't he." Bucky smirks at them before turning back to the road. "Let's just get home and we'll work out everything else. Deal?"

"Deal."

* * *

The drive back to the safe house takes longer than the drive there. Bucky takes the rutted roads with more care than he would normally have. Steve has opted for holding the baby tightly in his own arms, rather buckle him into the car seat they brought. Bucky isn't complaining, he’s more than happy having them both in his eye sight.

To his great relief, Misha does cry twice during their journey in fact, and he’s loud. The boy decides when he’s hungry and he has no patience after that. Bucky thinks that he’ll fit right in with his father. Bucky’s grateful that they'd thought to bring supplies from New York with them, which includes formula. Unfortunately, it’s a bit hard to change a diaper in a moving car.

It’s dark by the time Bucky pulls into the garage. He releases the steering wheel and leans back against the headrest with a sigh. He’s exhausted. It’s only been eighteen hours since they'd left New York, and yet it feels like ages.

"Home sweet home," Bucky says softly. "Or home for now at least."

Steve snorts and looks up at him with a soft, awestruck look in his eyes. "Is it bad that I don't even care that this is temporary? That I'm just happy we're together?"

"Yeah, I think that's okay, pal. Why don't you take him inside and get cleaned up. I'll unload the car."

"Are you sure?" Steve bit his bottom lip in doubt. "I feel like I've been hogging all the time with him, ya know?"

Bucky shook his head in fond exasperation. "I was driving, you idiot. Get inside. I won't be long."

Steve leans over, steals a quick kiss, and then juggles the door open one handed to slide out of the car. Bucky piles all the supplies into the cabin. Last trip bringing in the rifle and the shield.

As far as safe houses went, Bucky has been in far worse. There’s a generator to keep the single room warm and the bed looks sturdy and dependable. The oven works, there’s light, though they might need to think about conserving energy at some point. It’s small, but cozy for the moment and has everything they might need for the next couple of weeks. Certainly enough to survive on. They will be just fine here.

Steve is sitting on the bed, smiling down at a squirming bundle lying in front of him. Bucky approaches slowly, surprised by the flutters of nerves that are stirring in his stomach. He's just spent a six hour car ride in close quarters with the two of them, and yet here he is, uncertain as to whether the ground beneath him is still or quicksand.

Then the baby, Misha, giggles when Steve snatches his outstretched fingers inside his huge hands. Steve smiles, eyes crinkling around the edges. Bucky knows that look. Steve has just fallen in love.

"Bucky." Steve doesn't take his eyes off their son, and yet he knows he’s there anyway. "Come here. You have to see this."

Bucky sits on the edge of the bed next to Steve and tries not to jostle the mattress too much. Misha is grinning his toothless little smile, bright blue eyes wide and staring at his fingers wrapped around one of Steve's. He can't help tracing those little fingers with his metal digit, marveling at the way his sons fine bones cling to Steve's.

He knows he should answer Steve, or say something at least,but he's overwhelmed. This is their son. Their child. Their responsibility. He's small, delicate, and absolutely perfect. Bucky feels a slow smile break out on his face, awed.

"Steve," he whispers. "He's beautiful."

"I know." Steve coos as he picks the boy up and cradles him against his chest. Bucky thinks it might be the most wonderful thing he's ever seen. "You wanna hold him?"

Bucky does, he's not sure he's going to believe that this is real until he has the boy in his arms, but he can't help staring at his exposed metal hand either. He's worked hard to view the thing as a prosthetic, an extension of himself, rather than a weapon. He thought he was better but staring at it now, he can't help but think that he isn’t worthy of holding something so precious and pure.

“Bucky,” Steve says softly, pulling Bucky’s focus back to him and away from the trauma of the past. “Hey, you are so great, you know that, right? If anyone deserves this, you do.”

Bucky opens his mouth to argue, but he knows that face. There is no arguing with that face. Steve won’t have it. Stubborn little shit he might be, but he’s Bucky’s stubborn little shit, and Bucky would believe almost everything that comes out of his mouth. He takes a deep breath and lets go of all his worries and doubts. It’s a little too late to go back now.

Steve carefully eases the baby from his arms into Bucky’s. Bucky marvels at the light warmth that takes up far less space than he thought it would. Misha looks tiny against his muscular forearms and biceps. He doesn’t make a sound during the shift, just closes his eyes and curls against the warmth of Bucky shirt. Bucky, for his part, can only stare starstruck. This is his son, falling asleep in his arms. It’s more than a little mind blowing.

An awestruck chuckle leaves Bucky’s lips as Steve curls around him. He leans back into the steady presence of Steve’s chest, but doesn’t take his eyes off Misha. After all the trouble and fear of the last twenty-four hours, the moment is quiet and peaceful. Steve presses a kiss to Bucky’s cheek and hooks his chin over his shoulder. “I don’t know what to say,” the blond admits softly.

“No, really sure there is anything to say.” Bucky leans the side of his head against Steve’s and closes his own eyes. “I’m tired.”

Steve laughs, nuzzling his nose into Bucky’s cheek. “That’s something at least. We have a small problem, though.”

Bucky yanks his eyes open in alarm, tucking Misha more securely into his arms. “What?”

“No, no, no, nothing like that. Relax, Bucky.” Steve rubs Bucky’s shoulders and arms with his big hands, trying to get the other man to calm back down. “It’s not a big deal. I just realized this safe house isn’t built for babies, you know? We don’t have a crib.”

Bucky gapes, and then rolls his eyes. “Of all the things to forget to bring from home. I guess one of us will just have to hold him.”

“We need to sleep while we can. Better safe than sorry. We’ll just have to think of something.” Steve casts his eyes around the room, and then grins slowly. “Hold on. I got an idea.”

“You’re ideas are never good,” Bucky calls after him before turning down to smile at Misha, who’s still asleep. “It’s true. Your Daddy’s ideas always get us in trouble.”

“Don’t poison the kid against me.” Steve smiles and dumps the shield and a pile of blankets on the bed.

“Um, Steve, what are you doing?”

“Just hold on.” Steve turns the shield over so that the brightly painted surface is down and it forms a shallow bowl. He props it up against a pillow gently and lines the hard surface with blankets. “Tada.”

“You aren’t serious?”

“It’ll work.” Steve grins proudly, and, yes, Bucky would like to kiss those lips and taste that enthusiasm. “He’s just the right size. Do you have a better idea?”

“Well, no,” Bucky admits. “Fine, fine. Let’s see if this works.”

He eases Misha into the softened shield and Steve is right, he’s just the right size to fit in the the little bowl that the shield made. He doesn’t even make a peep as he transitioned from Bucky’s arms to his new bed. Bucky has to chuckle. “That’s hilarious. Captain America’s son sleeping in Captain America’s shield.”

Steve turns bright pink, but otherwise grins with pride. This time Bucky has to kiss him.

“Jerk,” Steve mutters against Bucky’s lips.

“Punk.”

This is how they end up sleeping that night, Misha in Steve’s shield, and Steve in Bucky’s arms. Bucky as he drifts off to sleep has to admit, it feels good to have his family right where he can see them.

* * *

Sleep, of course has been the operative term, because Steve and Bucky don’t get much of it. Misha is a good baby for the most part, but he makes it quite clear that he wants to eat every three to four hours without fail. As the days stretch into weeks, Steve and Bucky start switching feedings, but even then they’re usually both up.

Misha is happy and that is all Bucky can bring himself to care about. Their little boy will stare around at their tiny world and smile at him and Steve. He'll grasp their fingers and Bucky's hair when he can reach it. His blue eyes eyes are starting to darken, and Bucky has wondered out loud if he will end up with brown hair and brown eyes.

Steve had just chuckled and said that someone in their family needed to forgo blue eyes.

They've been in Russia for a month before Bucky starts to get antsy. Sitting still in one place, especially when he’s already so far into protect mode, is proving to be a challenge. Everyday the walls of the cabin seem to get smaller and smaller. Bucky knows he should have be happy just to have Steve and Misha safe, but his claustrophobia is rearing it's ugly head, and for two nights in a row he's woken up shaking from nightmares.

None of it was a good combination.

 

"You need to relax, James." Natasha's face might have be slightly pixelated on the screen of his Stark pad, but her voice is loud and clear. "You're not really in any danger. You just have to stay put until your papers came, through, then you can all come home. Now let me see my godson."

Bucky rolls his eyes, but pick up the screen so that she could see Misha, who’s laying on the bed between Bucky's knees. His chubby fingers reach up for Natasha's face and from the sound of Natasha's cooing, Bucky can guess that he and Steve will be begging to have their son back when they get to New York. Misha already has his aunt wrapped around his fingers.

"Bucky, he really is beautiful." Bucky turns the pad around to see Nat's face which glows even through the terrible satellite feed. "You and Steve should enjoy this while you can. When's the next time you're going to have nothing to do but just be together?"

"I know. I know." Misha grabs Bucky's metal pinky and pulls it toward his mouth,which draws a crooked smile from Bucky's lips. "What are you so afraid of anyway?"

To that Bucky has a simple answer. "Russia. You know better than anyone that I don't have good memories of this place. I would hate to think that something would happen to Steve and Misha while we were stuck here and it would all be my fault."

"Bucky, no one knows you're there and there is no one left from the Red Room or Hydra who can touch you. We made sure of that."

"I just can't loose them, Natalia." Bucky's eyes stay planted on Misha's face as the baby chews on Bucky's pinkie.

"You aren't going to." Natasha's conviction flows through her voice before she can change the subject. "Just try to enjoy it. Where is Steve?"

"Making a trip into Moscow. We decided it would be better if I didn't show my face around the capital."

"Good idea, but I hope you showed him how to blend in. He's terrible at keeping hidden."

"I did my best, Natalia, but I'm only human."

"Of course you are." Nat looks toward something off screen. "Clint wants a partner for target practice. Give Misha a kiss for me."

"Goodbye, Natasha." When the pad goes dark, Bucky tosses it aside and picks up Misha to nuzzle their noses together. "Your Aunt Nat is a strange one, but she loves you. And just wait till you meet your Uncle Tony."

He spends the rest of the afternoon with Misha in his shield crib and Bucky catching up on sleep he’s missing. By the time Misha wakes him up to be fed, the sun is starting to get low in the western horizon, and Steve isn't back yet. Bucky tries to ignore the flutter of worry he feels in his stomach as he fixes Misha's bottle. Steve is a big boy. He’ll be fine.

It’s an hour before Steve pulls into their garage. Bucky breathes a sigh of relief and pulls Misha into the protective circle of his arms. The garage isn't heated. Bucky doesn't want Misha catching a chill because of the cold. Steve has a smile on his face as he comes in and Bucky feels the last of the tension drain away.  They’re all under the same roof again, thank God.

"Honey, I'm home." Steve smiles brightly as he dumps bags on the narrow kitchen counter. "How are my fella's?"

Bucky gladly goes into the arm Steve holds out, curling into his side as Steve presses kisses into Misha's forehead and cheeks. "Bored. Your fellas are bored. Did you bring us any presents?"

Steve rolls his eyes and moves his lips to Bucky's neck. He's allowed a beard to come in over the last month, and Bucky has to bite back a moan as the rough edges scrape against his tender skin. Bucky arches his neck, allowing Steve greater access while remaining very aware of the warm, little presence still in his arms.

"Keeping you happy is such a chore." Steve grumbles, sucking Bucky's neck.

"You love it." Bucky snickers as Steve pulls away to place a real kiss against Bucky's lips.

"Yeah, I do." There's one more kiss, soft and passionate against Bucky's lips before he's putting even more distance between them. "God, I can't wait to get back to New York where I can have you all to myself for a couple minutes."

Bucky gasps theatrically and covers one of Misha's ears with his free hand. "Don't listen to him. He's either being very rude or completely disgusting."

"Oh, shut up." Steve takes Misha from his arms, snuggling a kiss to one of his round cheeks. "Your Papa's just jealous."

"I'll show you jealous," Bucky grumbles with a smile as he starts emptying the bags of perishables Steve brought in. "So, how is Moscow?"

Steve shrugs, making faces at Misha as he talks. "Quiet. I thought someone might have recognized me for a moment, but it turned out to be nothing."

"Are you sure?" Bucky questions remembering what Natasha had said about Steve and hiding. Even when skinny, he'd stood out like a sore thumb and gaining a hundred and fifty pounds of pure muscle had made it worse. He knew he should have gone. He’s better at blending in, he was a goddamn ghost. That’s his job. He shouldn't be so scared about Russia.

"Bucky." Steve's soft voice is the perfect counterpoint to the storm making its way through his head. Steve grabs his bicep, keeping him grounded to the real world as he struggles with the surge of panic. "We're okay. Bucky, everything is fine. It's 2018, we're in Russia, and nothing is going to happen to us. We're all safe. Now, can you breathe, please?"

Bucky takes in a deep, shaky breath that rattles his lungs and forces oxygen into brain. He becomes aware he’s shaking violently, that there is a roar in his ears, and he can't breathe fast enough or strong enough to feel stable. Braced against the counter, his left hand gripping hard enough to crack tile, struggling to inhale when he just wants to crawl out of his skin. He can't bring in a good enough breath, can't think past the terror in his brain, can't do anything but ride the panic attack out.

Steve, with one hand on Bucky's arm and his years of practice from talking him through this, gives Bucky an anchor to cling to when the real world doesn't seem so real. There was a time was when Bucky couldn't have anyone within fifty feet of him during attacks without lashing out. Steve had slowly wormed his way in until he could count out breaths or whisper sweet encouragement into Bucky's ear. He doesn't need to remind Bucky of his own memories anymore, but he will sometimes, just to give Bucky something soft and reassuring to come down into. Remembering love is a lot better than remembering hate and pain.

As Bucky comes down this time, he doesn't want the sweet. He doesn't want to be told that everything is fine, there is nothing wrong, and they’re all safe. It’s all a lie. They aren't safe if Bucky can be distracted so easily. Bucky can't protect Steve and his son if he’s busy fighting off panic and bloody terror. He’s letting the two most important people in his world down. It’s the farthest thing from okay.

After a moment, letting the anger fuel inside and chase away the terror, he raises his metal fist and brings it down with a sharp whack, pulverizing the cheap corrugated board and linoleum, sending prices flying. He growls in frustration and annoyance. Months without an attack and it had to be now, while they were hiding in Russia. He swallows the bitter burn of failure in his mouth.

Then he finally looks around him and the color drains from his face. Steve isn't touching him anymore because his free hand is protecting their sons face from Bucky's mess. Even as tiny as some of those particles of cabinet could have hurt Misha's tender skin or eyes. He's crying into Steve's shoulder and Bucky's heart breaks. Why can't he just control himself for two minutes? He’s always hurting people.

Always the people who don't deserve to be hurt.

"Steve, I." Bucky opens his mouth to apologize. or explain, or beg forgiveness, but he loses his voice because because Steve looks at him and his blue eyes are so full of sympathy and love, Bucky can't think. He doesn't deserve this. After all the times he's fallen apart and harmed Steve, he still see’s the best of him. Bucky doesn't deserve this at all.

Yet, Steve smiles. "Bucky, it's okay. It's nothing."

Bucky shakes his head, silently damning Steve's easy trust. The walls of the small cabin feel like they're folding in on him, his breath becoming labored, and he might be shaking again. He hates this so much. He hates being the weak link in the chain. He hates being the one that everyone has to worry about. He hates that now matter how far he seems to go, he always has to take three steps back. He hates always hurting the same people.

"Do you need some air?" Steve asks gently. He understands of course. Steve is good at understanding. It doesn't make it any easier.

Bucky nods jittery and sharp. He moves stiffly, thinks enough to grab his coat and rifle. He doesn't look behind him as he walks out the door.

It's a sign of trust that Steve doesn't ask him to stay close.

* * *

Bucky's easy to follow, which is a good sign. It means that he's left marks on propose. He expected Steve to follow him, or for Steve to have the option. The trail doesn't go too far, just disappearing into the trees until it reaches a small grove.

Steve leans against a tree trunk, crossing his arms across his chest. When Bucky had rushed out of the house an hour ago, he'd been jittery and unstable. Panic attacks always left him a little fuzzy around the edge. Sometimes he would fall right into Steve and need to be held, other times, like now, he needs space to sort out the cluttered thoughts in his mind.

Bucky is standing perfectly still now in his shooting stance, rifle on his shoulder and eyes trained down the barrel. Steve isn't sure what he has in his sights. He can't see anything but the thick trees and snow. The shot comes seconds later, ringing out clear in the late afternoon air. There’s a new bullet lodged in a branch three yards away, and a satisfied grin on Bucky's face.

"What did the tree do to you?" Steve asks, smirking at the other man who shrugs. "It was a good shot."

"It was an easy shot. Clint could have made that one."

"You don't give Clint enough credit. " Steve wants to make Bucky laugh, but he knows that's going to take time. "How are feeling?"

Bucky shrugs again, looking like a sulking child. "Where's Misha?"

"He's asleep, back at the cabin. I'm listening to him in my ear." Bucky's quizzical look has Steve explaining. "We don't have a baby camera so I used one of our mission coms. I left one end on the shield and the others in my ear. He's asleep."

"I almost wanna say that's genius." Bucky's lips turn up in a soft smile. "I, um, I'm really sorry, Steve. I didn't mean to make a mess like that, and I really didn't mean to hurt you or Misha. You guys didn't get hurt, did you?"

"No, Bucky, we're fine. I promise. I kinda figured you were going to do something. Can I ask what you were upset about?"

Bucky keeps his eyes focused on the toes of his boots scraping through the snow and ice. Steve can feel the shame rolling off him and would give anything to ease it away. Bucky's still too closed off for that. "It's the first attack I've had in months, Steve. Months I've been fine and we get here, and I lose all control. I should have been able to stop myself.”

“Bucky, you know that’s not how it works.” Steve’s mouth forms the familiar words. It’s hardly the first time and likely won’t be the last. It’s just something that Bucky has to deal with. Steve is here to help him through it. “This isn’t just something that you can stop. You’ve been dealing with a lot of stress and change. You had an attack and no one got hurt.”

“But someone could have been!” Bucky’s shout echos off the snow as he pulls agitatedly at his own hair. “I could have. I wasn’t thinking, I acted, and it could have been worse. It could have been.”

“By someone, you mean Misha.”

Bucky rolls his eyes, but his shoulders sag in defeat. “Steve, if I did anything and he got hurt, I wouldn’t know what to do with myself.”

Steve finally walks the few feet that it takes to pull Bucky toward him. Bucky sinks into his embrace, trembling all over, and clinging to Steve’s jacket. Steve sways them back and forth gently, like he was rocking Misha. He holds Bucky together and lets him refind his center. “Bucky, it's going to be okay. You’re not going to hurt him. I watch you with him all the time because you two are my sun and stars. You are so gentle and easy around him. You soothe him and smile at him. Bucky, I have never seen you smile like that. It’s pleased and content. You love him so much, it pours out of you, and I can’t wait for the rest of our family to see that. In the unlikelihood that anything ever happened, I’d be right here. You won’t hurt him, Bucky.”

Bucky nods against his chest, breathing heavy and wet. “I’m sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry for, baby.” Fingers slip underneath Bucky’s chin, pulling him up where Steve can kiss his lips. Bucky smiles softly into it and when Steve pulls away his eyes are closed. “Let’s go home, ‘kay?”

Bucky slips an arm around Steve’s waist and lets Steve pull him along. “Not home till we can go back to New York.”

“Full agreement there.” Steve chuckles. “How ya feelin’?”

“I’m fine, Steve.” Bucky rolls his eyes, though it's hard to deny that he’s tired and hungry. Panic attacks take it out of everyone, even supersoldiers. Steve doesn’t believe his husband for a second. “Do you really have our son on a com?”

Steve smirks, pulls the mic out of his ear and offers it to Bucky. That smile is back as soon the little mic is in Bucky’s ear.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Misha sleeping in Steve's shield is inspired by [this](http://brooklynstucky.tumblr.com/post/114803018404/scribbledit-a-quick-pic-of-single-dad-steve-based) fanart. Be sure to give the artist some love.
> 
> Follow me on [tumblr](http://everydaybella.tumblr.com/)!


	3. Home is Where the Shield Is

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If my Russian is effed up I'm sorry and I would gladly accept help with that. *wink wink nudge nudge*

**Chapter Three**

**Home is Where the Shield Is**

“Dad-dy. Say Dad-dy.”

All that Misha does is laugh and reach for his Papa’s hair.

“You know, it's too early for him to talking, right?” Bucky asks, ducking out of the way of Misha’s hands before his long hair can be caught in chubby fingers. Misha pouts and instead reaches for the edge of the blanket, still half in Bucky’s lap.

Steve shrugs in Bucky’s general direction, while his blue eyes stay glued to their sons happy face.

Cabin fever has started settling into the super soldiers, so with Spring making a little headway into the frozen forest, they've come out to enjoy the world outside. They had a little picnic in a small patch weak patch of sunlight, and Misha now sits in Bucky's lap, laughing in the sun.

Bucky turns his face to sun, enjoying the warmth on his pale skin. After months trapped in the cold, even the soft heat is wonderful. He wishes they were in New York and Prospect Park, but he has Steve and Misha's laughter in his ear, so it’s alright for the moment.  

When Misha reaches for his metal thumb, Bucky lets him take it. The boy begins gnawing on the end, and Bucky is glad it’s clean. Surprisingly, his own metal digits have become the best teething rings they have and after hours of crying, Bucky’s willing to let him chew on anything he wants.

He has one little tooth coming in on his bottom gum. In three months he's doubled in size, no longer looking tiny in their arms. He can sit up propped in their laps and smiles when he sees their faces. He hasn't rolled over yet, but Steve has been looking it up online and said it’s nothing to be worried about. They've started feeding him little bits of oatmeal with his milk. Bucky is constantly marveling at how he’s changed every day. He loves nothing more than waking up in the morning to Misha's cooing little noises.

Though, it’s more often he wakes up to the boy screaming for breakfast.

"You are so beautiful."

Bucky looks down, expecting to find Steve still making goo-goo eyes at their son, but instead warm blue is locked on him. Bucky snorts. "Do we need to get your eyes checked when we get home?"

"My eyes are fine. You've always been beautiful to me, Bucky."

Bucky shrugs and looks back to Misha, still teething on his fingers, to hide the embraced blush heating his cheeks. Steve never did see with straight eyes, and Bucky’s always be thankful for that. It’s the only reason Steve can love a wreck like him.

"Hey, sit still for a moment." Steve scrambles to his knees and grabs one of the bags that had been dumped on the edge of their blankets. Bucky smirks as Steve pulls his sketch pad and a pencil from its depths.

"Seriously Steve, how many of those do you have already?"

"Not nearly enough." He folds his legs underneath himself and props his pad against his knee. "Just be still."

Bucky, who has decades of practice, does as he's asked. Misha, though, has quickly become a very active child and is always reaching for something new. Bucky can flutter his flashy fingers and capture his attention as long as the boy is not already chewing on them. Fortunately, Steve can work pretty fast.

Misha's only just starting to get cranky as his eyelids droop when Steve finishes. He trades with Bucky, pulling Misha into his arms and trying to soothe him while offering the picture. Bucky smiles, finding his own face smiling down at Misha, who has his metal fingers stuffed in his mouth. Steve's usual talent is apparent in the art, but it's the title at the bottom that makes Bucky grin like a loon.

Misha and Papa.

"Cute, Steve."

"You love it." Steve cooes to the baby he’s rocking in his arms before brushing careful fingers through his fine hair. "Do you think he needs a haircut?"

Bucky doubles over laughing, rolling to lay prone on the blanket. "God Steve, you are vain about nothing but your hair. Please, don't teach that to our son."

"I am not vain." Steve swats Bucky's shoulder indignantly. "My hair just never laid right before and it's nice that it does now."

"Which of us spends the most time getting ready in the morning? "

"Well, we can’t all have luscious long hair that goes easily into a bun."

"You love my bun and you know it."

"It's true, I do."

Bucky and Steve miss the part where Misha falls asleep to their good natured squabbling. Bucky stretches out in the sun again, head in Steve's lap, completely relaxed. For a moment, he forgets they’re even in Russia. It could have been their balcony in New York for all he knows.

Then the damn phone has to break his concentration. "Damn it, Natalia." He groans as he digs the thing out of his pocket to the sound of Steve's snickering. "You don't have to call every hour, you crazy woman."

"She can't wait to meet him. I think she might love Misha more than us."

"Steve, it's not Nat." Bucky doesn't explain further before putting the phone to his ear. "Good morning, Mrs Taylor. Or is it good evening? I always forget."

Bucky watches as Steve holds his breath, waiting for what their adoption agent has to tell them. Bucky’s ready to be home with their odd little family. Much as he loved time with his family, there was also an inch under skin to get back to the grind.

A slow smile blossoms on his face as he listens to the woman, relief flooding through him. "We'll send you the particulars as soon as we've made a plan. Thank you so much."

They say their goodbyes, and Steve’s nearly vibrating with nerves and need the whole time. Bucky bypasses him to instead press a kiss to his sleeping son's forehead. "Are you ready to go home, Принц?"

Misha doesn’t react at all to their news except to smile in his sleep.

* * *

They leave Moscow hours later. Steve frets about how to secure a car seat to the quinjet seats, all the while Bucky runs himself a little crazy trying to pack everything, but they both feel better being in the air. They’re finally going home. Misha will get to sleep in his crib, in his nursery that they’ve prepared for him. He will get to meet his aunts and uncles, and Steve and Bucky will finally get to sleep in their own bed. They might even be able to rope their friends in babysitting for a few hours.

“Just not Tony,” Bucky remains.

“Not Tony. At least, not without Pepper.” Steve agrees with a chuckle.

They both try to sleep on the flight so they can combat jet lag and be coherent when they land at eight in the morning New York time. Bucky thinks Avengers Tower is an ugly eyesore, but as he brings the quinjet in for a landing and sees all their friends waiting with smile of anticipation, he thinks it might just might be the most welcoming place in New York.

Bucky lowers the ramp and lets Steve’s take Misha out while he shuts down the plane. He can’t help smiling as he watches Natasha reach for his son first, balancing the little one in her arms while Clint leans over her shoulder and starts making faces. Thor slaps Steve’s shoulder hard enough to jostle him, but Steve just grins widely and proudly.

By the time Bucky is joining them, sliding in next to Steve, Misha has been passed to Wanda, who refuses to let her brother hold him—citing a fear of whiplash, to Pepper who is trying to get Tony to hold him.

“Nope. Little guy is cute, but I don’t want kid cooties all over me or my work.”

“Tony, you know full well that those aren’t real.” Pepper rolls her eyes at him and doesn’t look the least bit surprised. “Look at him. He’s adorable.”

“He’s a tiny, squishy, person.”

It’s Bruce that lays the parting shot. “I’ve never known you to back away from a challenge.”

Tony glares playfully at Bruce before turning to Pepper. "Okay, lay him on me."

Steve steps forward and shows Tony how to make a bow with his arms, and then hovers as Pepper eases the sleeping baby into Tony's arms. The man freezes as he takes Misha's full weight, eyes wide with what Bucky guesses is well suppressed terror. Bucky understands the feeling. After three months of having to share with just Steve, he’s freaking out a little inside with his son suddenly in everyone's arms but his father's. Tony loosens up, even takes to rocking lightly from foot to foot. The terror drains from his face and settles into something completely enamored.

Misha already has his uncle wrapped around his chubby little fingers.

Bucky doesn't startle when he feels slim arms wrap around his own. Natasha smirks up at him, that sly secretive smile that she learned all those years ago. "I think you might have started something, котенок."

"And what would that be?"

Natasha shrugs. "Well, I never would have thought I’d see Stark with a baby, but look at him. He looks like he just discovered a new element."

Bucky smirks and can't help but agree. Stark appears taken in by Misha, and Pepper has a sly smile on her face. Bucky can't help wondering if there were going to be more babies in the Tower soon. "Misha could use some cousins. He’ll be lonely without anyone his age.”

Natasha snorts, tossing her hair behind her with a wicked grin. “You’re really telling me that you and Steve are going to stop at one?”

“Have you not been here the whole time? Did you not see the hoops we had jump through just to get Misha?”

“Like a little challenge has ever stopped you.”

Bucky opens his mouth to argue back, but has to snap it shut after a minute of fumbling. Natasha knows him far too well.

With a self righteous smile and a wink, she leaves his side to go back to Clint, who now has Misha precisely in his arms. Bucky finds himself following, not at all trusting the archer with his son. “Clint, have you never held a baby before?”

“No.” Clint sputters as Natasha adjusts his hold. “I was the youngest, and then in the circus and SHIELD. When would I have ever have held a baby? And how do you know so much, Barnes?”

“I was the oldest of four. You don’t think I spent my fair share of time taking care of them?”

Anyone who doesn’t know Steve as well as he did will have missed it, but Bucky knows Steve inside and out. He doesn’t miss the tick in his jaw or the way his spine stiffens when Bucky mentions his sisters. He doesn’t know exactly what it means, but he made a note to bring it up later.

Misha lets out a startled wail, and Bucky rushes to take him from Clint, not sparing the archer a dirty look as he cooes softly to his son. “That’s okay, принц. Your Uncle Clint is just an idiot and doesn’t know what to do with you.”

“принц?” Natasha questioned softly.

Bucky shrugs, pride in his face. “It’s fitting, don’t you think?”

“Of course.”

* * *

When they make it inside, their adoption agent is waiting on them. It's easy as signing the custody papers and they’re done. The hard part has already been dealt with, but relief still rushes over Bucky once he sees both their signatures on the page. No one is going to take their son away. Not now. Not ever. They’re officially a family, back in their home, where they belong. Bucky isn’t naive enough to think that everything will be sunshine and roses from here on out, but what they are now will never be changed.

Steve, Bucky, and Misha.

Lunch is spent on the common floor eating sandwiches while Steve feds Misha before he gets passed around again to his new extended family. He pulls Thor’s hair, for which the demigod laughs and says he will be a strong warrior. Tony keeps finding excuse to have Misha, which Natasha always sends Bucky knowing looks for. He tell her in Russian to stop being a busy body. She just sticks her tongue out at him. Sam promises to teach Misha how to fly, which causes Steve to turn positively green.

“Aw, don’t worry baby. It could be worse.” Bucky pats Steve’s thigh, pretending sympathy while amusement rolls off him. “Tony could have offered.”

“Okay, that’s enough.” Steve shoots up straight on the couch where he and Bucky have been lounging. “Give him back to me. I trust none of you now.”

The others snicker and laugh, but Misha makes it back into his Daddy’s arms. He breaks out into a smile when he sees Steve’s face, beaming like a little sun and kicking his legs in excitement. Steve scoops him up, smiling himself, and settles back into the couch. “You’re aunts and uncles are going to give you bad ideas and your Papa is going to help.”

Misha laughs back at the same time Bucky does. “Bit rich coming from you, Stevie.”

“I do believe they call that ‘sowing your oats.” Clint snickers as he pulls out the PS4.

“You would know, Farmer Boy.”

“Oh, but he’s so right, Steve.” Bucky uses Steve’s lap as a pillow, since Misha is held against his chest. “You’re going to know what you put your poor mother through.”

“I wasn’t the only one putting her through it. You sowed your own oats.”

“I did not,” Bucky replies indignantly. “I merely tried to keep you out of trouble.”

“Hum.” Steve nods sullenly. “What about Johnny O'Sullivan?”

“He stole your colored pencils that I bought you. He had it coming.”

“And Jaxson Beyer?”

“He thought he could cut in front of you in line. I wasn’t going to let anyone stand for that, was I?”

“Abel Sherman?”

“I just didn’t like him.”

“Good God.” Tony gasps in exasperation, rolling his eyes for good measure. “That kid is screwed.”

Bucky shrugs, reaching one metal finger up to get caught in Misha’s hands and chewed on. “If by screwed you mean gonna be just fine, then yeah, you’re right.”

“Kid can’t be any worse off than the rest of us.” Tony shrugs and Bucky is forced to agree. They all have their issues, but they’ve got their own slice of normal and that’s what's important. Surrounded by their friends, the strange patchwork family that they have fitted themselves into, Bucky remembers what it was like when he had and Steve were kids. Contrary to popular myth, it had never been just Steve and Bucky. They’d been surrounded by family, the Barnes Clan was uncountable, and Steve was there because Steve was always with Bucky. Kids were better raised by a village, he could remember his Ma remarking at one point. Bucky has to admit, they are surrounded by quite the village.

Misha sleeps the afternoon away in Steve’s arms while they watch Clint challenge people in Gran Turismo. Petro ends playing the most, but he always throws a tantrum when he can’t beat Clint’s hand-eye coordination. The routine is relaxing and sweet.

Steve grabs Bucky’s hand just to hold on to.

Bucky is glad to be home.

* * *

Steve wakes up alone, moonlight still pouring into the room, so he figures he hasn’t been out very long. There’s a fuzziness around the edges of his thoughts, uncertain as to what awoke him. It hadn’t been a nightmare, his heart isn’t racing and blood pounding through his system. FRIDAY is still silent, so there are no emergencies that need his immediate attention. No alarms going off. No sense of urgency and panic. Steve almost shut his eyes and allows himself to drift back to sleep.

Until he realizes what’s missing.

He jolts upright in an instant and reaches for the baby monitor that sits on the night stand. His internal monologue berates himself for forgetting that they have a baby. Misha should have been the first thought on his mind, not an afterthought. How can he have forgotten about his own, dearly loved child? If this is a sign of things to come, then he’s in trouble.

He’s calms a little when he turns up the volume and doesn’t hear crying. Instead, Bucky’s low voice is the sound that has woken him. Of course, he hasn’t realized Bucky is out of the bed. He shakes his head and forces the thought away to be dealt with later.

Steve listens to something that he hasn’t heard in a long time. The speaker distorts the sound some, but it's unmistakable. Bucky’s singing Don’t Take My Sunshine Away to their infant son. Steve smiles, the tension seeping from him. There’s something melancholy in Bucky’s voice, like there always is these days, but occasionally, like a ray of sun breaking through the clouds, Steve can hear the smile that must radiate out of his lover's face. A joy so thick that he thinks he might be able to touch it comes through, even on the cheap speakers.

Steve can’t do anything for a moment, but sit there in the rumpled seats with the baby monitor held loosely in hands and feel. There had been a time, just a few years before, that he’d thought they’d never get here. He’d been alone in a world that he didn’t belong in with everyone that he loved dead and buried. Or so he’d thought. Peggy was old and had gotten a good, long, happy life and a family all her own. Steve can’t have wished anything better for her, but he didn’t dare think that he could have had the same thing now.

Then Bucky had come back, and what little Steve had been able to carve out for himself had crumpled. It had taken so much and so long to get them to where they were now. Steve can admit, even only to himself, that he wasn’t always so sure that they would make it. There had been pain and the kinds of old wounds that never healed properly. There had been times when Steve wanted to pull his hair out and times when he felt more lonely than ever, even with Bucky right next to him.

Through it all, Steve wouldn’t have dreamed about being here. They had a family of their own now. It wasn’t just the two of them anymore. It wasn’t just Steve and Bucky. It was Steve, Bucky, and Misha. There is three of them. A packaged deal. They have a son and Steve is so overwhelmed with gratitude and love that for a moment, he can only listen to Bucky sing and cry, because this was never supposed to be his life. Here he is anyway, and if he knows who to thank he will have been down on his knees because this is now the one thing he can’t live without.

Bucky’s drifted to humming before Steve kicks himself into gear and off the bed. He’s wasting too much time being emotional about this when he should be part of it. Bucky and Misha are somehow his to love, and he’s not going to waste a moment.

He makes it as far as leaning in the doorway of the nursery. Bucky has that effect on him sometimes and this is no different, perhaps it's even stronger because as Bucky paces across the floor, he’s sheltering their son in the crook of the his right arm. The lamp in the corner casts shadows over his face, but it can’t hide the tiny, contented smile that graces Bucky’s features. His blue-grey eyes are locked on the baby's, unmoving and sharp, all that attention and devotion focused on the tiny being. Steve feels something tighten his chest as he watches him sway lightly from foot to foot with a dancer's grace and a fighters precision used to help their son asleep. Steve’s own arms feel suddenly empty and hollow. He crosses them over his chest to hide the feeling.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve heard that,” he whispers, not wanting to wake Misha, and knowing Bucky will hear. “You used to sing it to me during the war. Do you remember?”

Bucky nods, eyes leaving the his son’s face for a moment to smile at Steve and make something ache in the super soldier's chest. “I remember. Whenever we thought no one else was looking. I don’t remember why that song.”

“You liked it. You never would tell me why. I think it made you sad.”

Bucky shrugs, still swaying as he rocks their son. “It doesn’t make me sad now.”

“Me either.”

Bucky goes back to humming the old song and Steve listens, still overwhelmed with what’s right in front of his eyes. Still trying to work out exactly how he got so lucky.

"Hey, babydoll," Bucky says softly, gathering Steve's attention back. "Are you having as much trouble wrapping your head around this as I am?"

"Yeah. I am."

Bucky shakes his head, still maintaining his swaying rhythm to keep Misha asleep. “I keep thinking I’m going to wake up and still be in Hydra’s chair, or in some camp during the war, or, worst of all, in our old apartment with the leaking roof. I can’t quite figure out how we got here.”

Steve heaves a dry chuckle, glad he’s not the only one who can’t believe they made it this far. “I can't work out how we deserve this.”

“You deserve it.” Bucky smiles up at him with gentle blue grey eyes that make Steve want to melt. “Me on the other hand.”

“You deserve everything good, Buck.” Steve lets the confidence surge through him. No one is going to tell Bucky that he doesn’t deserve happiness. Not on his watch. “You deserve this, too.”

Bucky shrugs without comment and goes back to watching Misha sleep in his arms. Steve tries to memorize the look, so that he can sketch it later. Contented and peaceful, Bucky is one of his favorite subjects.

“You think we’ll ever get used to it?” Bucky asks after a moment.

Steve really does laugh this time, not loud enough to wake up their sleeping child, but he can’t quite hide the bubbling joy building in him any longer. “Nope, I don’t think so.”

Bucky smiles like he gets it, the corners of his lips pulled up wide and true, taking Steve’s breath away in an instant. There isn’t much more to say as they both try to come grips with what they’ve been given. It’s a good feeling, but a little overwhelming.

They stay in their positions for a while, Steve and Misha listening to Bucky’s humming until the blond realizes they should be trying to get some sleep while they can. Misha’s a pretty good baby, but he’s very punctual about his night time feedings.

“Come back to bed for a little while.” Steve straightens and stretches his sore muscles as he steps fully in the room. “You can get the next feeding, if you want?”

He doesn’t miss the sudden panic in Bucky’s eyes. Steve walks to him, cups his cheeks in his large hands, and brushes his lips with his own lightly. “Bucky, you’re here. You’re not in Hydra’s chair. We’re together, and we have a family. No one is going to take that away from us. I won’t allow it. He’s not going to disappear if you get a little sleep.”

Bucky doesn’t look convinced. He looks terrified. Steve’s heart cracks right down the middle because he knows where this is coming from. Bucky has good reason to think that he might wake up and all this might be gone. Decades of brainwashing and trauma will do that to a person. Steve wraps an arm around his shoulders, leans his forehead against Bucky’s brunette hair, and promises him that this is real. He whispers into Bucky’s ear about how far they’ve come. About the trials they’ve had to face, overcome and defeat. About how they saved each other and how they’re safe now. Bucky loosens under his hand as Steve tells him their story and that after all the pain and trouble they deserve a happy ending and they’re finally getting one.

Bucky smiles, kissing his lips as he looks up. “I love you, Steve.”

“I love you too, Bucky. Now come back to bed for a little while.”

Bucky nods and carefully places Misha back in the red, white, and blue crib Tony had put together for them. After all the grief Tony had given them about the color scheme, Steve has to admit, he kind likes it. He leans over the railing to press a soft kiss to Misha’s downy head and whispers sweet dreams.

Bucky follows after him adding, “Good night, принц.”

* * *

It only takes about a month for the inevitable to happen.

“Sirs,” Friday’s crisp, clear voice breaks through a quiet afternoon on the Barnes-Rogers floor. Steve looks up from an incomplete sketch of Bucky and Misha who are playing on the floor. Misha giggles at the disembodied voice like has become his habit in the last week. So far, he can recognize Steve and Bucky’s voice, Thor’s, Natasha’s especially when she whispers to him in Russian, Sam’s, and FRIDAY’s. He will giggle for a few seconds at least, and the two men won't care about the computer is telling them. “Ms Potts is on her way to you.”

This news is surprising enough to get Steve’s attention. He sits up straighter on the couch, worry overtaking him as he puts away his sketch book. Bucky sits up from his loose sprawl on the floor and pulls Misha protectively into his lap. The boy grabs Bucky’s metal thumb and begins gnawing on the end of it. Steve grimaces. The doctor has told him that as long as the metal is clean, which Bucky is almost compulsive about, then Misha’s habit shouldn’t prove too much trouble for the time being. Steve still isn’t sure he agrees.

“What do you think Pepper wants?” Bucky asks, his blue eyes glancing nervously around the room to places that Steve knows are easy exits, or where he has weapons hidden.

“I’m sure it's nothing that bad.” Steve tries to reassure with an easy smile. Bucky’s protective tendencies have gotten a little out of hand in the last month. They’ve talked about it. Bucky knows he needs to back off a little, but knowing and doing are two very different things. Steve finds it hard to correct him, since it's not like he doesn’t understand. This time though he’s really isn’t worried. “If it was a big, world ending deal, Tony would be coming with her, or we would be a getting a SHIELD alert. Whatever this is, it's fine. We’ll tackle it together.”

“Tell the end of the line.” Bucky smiles while nuzzling their son’s soft, brown hair with his cheek. Steve’s heart squeezes tightly at the image and wishes his camera wasn’t across the room. His eidetic memory will hold the image for him, at least until he draw it later, but he can’t help wanting it as his wallpaper either.

He’s interrupted from the moment by the elevator door sliding open. Steve jumps to his feet and shares a smile with Pepper as she walks in. Pepper reminds him of Peggy in a lot of ways and he’s always happy to have her around, even when she’s baring bad news.

From the way her smile is a little pinched, it's definitely a bad news day. “I’m sorry about this,” she apologizes as she sits on the couch across from Steve. Bucky remains on the floor and Steve can’t help noticing that the arm around Misha is a little more secure than it was just a few minutes before, like Bucky’s preparing to run at a moment's notice. “We were trying to give you some time and keep it under wraps, but someone leaked it.”

“Back up.” Steve is more than a little confused. He isn’t quite sure what they had been trying to hide. In the month since they had been home, they had admittedly been more enthralled with getting Misha settled than any kind of business. Steve is still pretty sure that he would have known if something big had happened. “What, exactly, leaked?”

“Again, I’m really sorry about this.” With a long face, Pepper hands over her tablet into Steve’s hands. Its open to TMZ, and Steve has to clench his jaw in an effort to keep from crumbling the plastic in his hand. The headline reads AMERICA’S FAVORITE COUPLE HAS A KID? Underneath is a grainy picture of what is clearly Steve and Bucky with Misha perched in Steve’s arms. Steve knows immediately that it's from when they went to Prospect Park two days ago. Without a word Steve, hands it over to Bucky, who’s face goes stormy and dark.

“Who took the picture?” Bucky growls, eyes burning with the kind of slow rage that Steve learned long ago to be afraid of. It’s that rage that made Bucky beat up Liouy Lamore in fourth grade because he called Steve a runt.

“I don’t know yet,” Pepper admits with a sigh. “Darcy and the rest of the PR team is working on it, but it's a mute point now. We can’t take the story back. They have the proof.”

“Fuck yes we can.”

“Bucky.” Steve hisses, uncertain who he was more worried about, Pepper or Misha. “Language.”

“Steve, it's fine, really.” Pepper shrugs him off with a laugh that’s good for breaking the tension in the room. “You know Tony doesn’t control his mouth around me. That’s hardly the worst I’ve heard.”

Bucky snorts and before he can reply, Steve steps back in to get them on topic. That topic, his son’s safety. “Bucky does have a point. Why can’t we just ignore this? Does anyone really care that much that we have a son?”

“You could ignore it, but that’s just going to make the story bigger. It’ll become a game. A Did They or Didn’t They. If we say something, though, get out in front of this, we can control the story and hopefully the attention will simmer down. As for whether or not people care, well ... it always surprises me how you two manage to forget that you are public figures.”

“That’s just Captain America though,” Bucky grips, eyes and attention focused on Misha. “Whether or not we have a kid is not anyone else's business.”

“I wish it was that simple.” Pepper sighs heavily, and Steve knows right away that he isn't going to like this. "Whether you two like it or not, people like to follow your life and you having a child is a big deal. People want to know how, what his name is, that kind of thing. This could be a good thing in the long run. Think about the exposure you could be giving adopted kids and LGBT+ families."

Pepper is good. She knows exactly how to play Steve. Just appeal to the part of him that fights for outsiders. He’s the one always going around arguing about how representation is important. Well, they are representing. Bucky isn’t thrilled yet, but he isn’t arguing.

“What do we have to do?” Steve asks, begrudgingly, still more annoyed than anything, but willing to listen to reason.

Pepper explains that a short press release should do the trick. They’ll give Misha’s name, age, talk about how they opted for adopting, and how there were thousands of other kids just like him who need a home. Steve can watch Bucky loosening up as Pepper talks, releasing the protective hold on thier son. It doesn’t sound so bad and maybe they’ll even get to help someone else in the process.

Then it gets worse again. “A picture would be even better.”

Now, even Steve is having to fight the urge to grab Misha and run. There’s something about exposing their son to the world at large like that that set his teeth on edge. He’s too young, innocent, and sweet to get thrown to the wolves like that.

“No.” Bucky growls, glare just shy of predatory. It’s a sign of how brave Pepper Potts is that she doesn’t shy away from it. “You can tell them he exists, but they’re not gonna see him. That leaves him vulnerable. It’s none of their business anyway. The whole world is not part of our family and they’re the only ones who need to know as far as I’m concerned.”

“For starters, there is already a picture. That’s why we’re here.” Pepper’s voice is crisp and controlled, but Steve doesn’t miss the annoyance simmering underneath. It really shouldn’t be so fun to watch his husband get dressed down like this. “Next, I never said that he would be alone in the picture. I’d rather have one with all three of you. I would never leave him exposed. No matter what, he’s going to be taken care of. You can’t just keep him tied up here though. Whether either of you like it, you’re Avengers and that brings with it a certain level of public identity. Nothing is going to happen to him. In fact, Tony has spent the last three months building more failsafes into FRIDAY because of Misha. The Avengers are waiting for you upstairs to talk about some new security measures to make sure Misha and any other kids that might happen are kept safe. You two aren’t alone in this. We are your family and so is Misha. Just take a cute picture and let Darcy do her job.”

Bucky’s cheeks are a gentle shade of pink as he blushes under Pepper’s gaze. Steve doesn’t bother fighting the smile as Bucky mutters, “Sorry, Pepper.”

“Bucky’s protective streak has grown about ten miles longer in the last couple of weeks,” Steve explains.

Pepper smirks, and Steve remembers why she and Tony work so well together. “I’m sure he’s not the only one.”

 

When the press release comes out the next day, it’s accompanied by a picture of Bucky sitting between Steve's legs with a giggling Misha in his lap. From the smiles on their faces they'd never been happier.

 


	4. The Things You Do for Family

**Chapter Four**

**The Things You Do for Family**

Another thing they don’t talk about—going back to work. They’re so caught up in their little, happy bubble, that they don’t care about going back to Avenging until it's staring them straight in the face.

“You gotta go.”

“They don’t need me.” Bucky can already tell that Steve doesn’t believe it just from the tone of his voice. “This isn’t a big thing.”

“It is a big thing.” Bucky shoves down the worries fluttering sickeningly in his stomach and wishes he isn’t the one who has to do this. “It’s not an ten, but it's an easy eight. Doom is always trying to pull shit, and we can’t let him. The team needs you. Go.”

Steve’s plump lip disappears between his teeth for an instant before appearing redder than before. Bucky has to bite back a moan. “What about you and Misha?”

“We’re in the Tower. Pietro and I are staying behind. I promise I will protect our son with my life, and, as much as I hate to admit it, so would Pietro. We’ll be fine here.”

He can see the belief settle reluctantly onto Steve’s face. “We could use you, too.”

Bucky shrugs, but he’s not about to argue because Steve is right. They’re both Avengers. They may not need everyone this time, but Bucky isn’t naive enough to think that they can get away with this permanently. There may come a time when they’re both needed. Now isn’t the time to worry about that though. Steve needs his head in the mission, not worrying about them. This is part of how they keep Misha safe. Part of why they fight to begin with. It’s not a bad reason. “Clint’s not a bad shot. Not as good as me obviously, but he’ll do fine. I trust Sam and Natalia with your six. You’ve got enough fire to do what needs to be done. Don’t worry about us, okay?”

Steve agrees, and they busy themselves getting ready. Steve puts on the suit. Bucky checks in with the rest of the team to make sure they have everything they need. Bucky has to admit that the shield looks a little strange on Steve’s arm instead of cradling their son.

Then the hard part comes, because fifteen minutes later, they’re gathered on the roof, the quinjet is ready to go, and Bucky is staying behind. It’s not that there hasn’t been missions that they haven’t been on together. Their skill sets just don’t mesh sometimes. Bucky is more likely to be sent out with Nat or Clint, but this is different. This is one of those big deals, the World-Could-Very-Well-End-Here type of mission that Bucky has always been beside Steve for. He understands why he needs to stay behind, with Misha’s little fist tangled around his hair and staring wide eyed at the rumbling jet. Tony, Thor, and Vision have already taken off and the rest will be gone in minutes. Bucky’s heart hammers, worry flooding his system, and if he wasn’t holding Misha, he’s certain he would have been shaking out of his skin.

Steve is there, taking Misha from him and holding him against his broad, armoured chest. Misha giggles when Steve leans down to nuzzle their noses together. A heartbreaking smile spreads across Steve’s face, and Bucky wants to be sick. He had no idea this would be so hard. Or maybe he did and just wanted to ignore it.

“You take care of your Papa for me, okay, little guy?” Misha blinks his wide blue eyes, a toothy grin in place as he pats Steve’s cheek. Steve’s eyes become wet, and Bucky can’t handle this anymore. Steve can’t be this distracted from the job, and Bucky can’t have his heart broken anymore.

He takes Misha back, who wails unhappily before settling back against Bucky. Steve's face falls, and Bucky watches as his fingers twitch, likely yearning to take him back. He doesn't. Instead, he cups those long fingers around Bucky's cheeks and leans in until the only thing Bucky knows is Steve. "I'll be back as soon as I can."

"I know." Bucky's voice is steady and certain, though he does nuzzle into Steve's warm hands. He's too aware of Misha being a little fussy in his arms, and the sweet smell of Steve's skin that envelops them. "Just be careful and come back in one piece."

"I'm always careful." Steve’s grin gives away the tease, and Bucky socks his shoulder with his metal fist. "Okay, okay, don't wound me before we even leave."

"Nothing reckless." Bucky doesn't play along and stays focused on the here and the near future where Steve will do something stupid. Bucky has known him long enough to know. "No stupid sacrifices or idiotic moves. You listen to the team, you work with them, and you come home. Understand?"

Steve nods, and he's so close that Bucky can feel the ends of his hair on his own forehead. "Promise. I'll be fine and I'll be counting the seconds til I'm home."

"This shouldn't be so hard." Bucky forces out a frustrated puff of air. "It’s not like it's the first time you've gone off without me."

"Of course it's different. It's all different. It's not just you and me anymore." One of his big hands leaves Bucky's face to cup the back their son’s head protectively. "And we haven't had to do this in about six months. That makes a difference, too."

"This isn't something I want to get used to."

"Me either." Steve is so close now that he can feel his lips brush against his skin. "We'll figure it out. I'll stay safe. I promise."

"I love you." Bucky admits softly, gently, the words existing only between them. "So much."

Steve doesn't answer,  just pushes their lips together, bruising and fierce. There's nothing that matters outside of this. Just Steve's taste against his tongue, his fingers tangled deep in the roots of his hair. Bucky's aware of Misha still in his arms and pressed between them. It's a warm little cocoon, and Bucky's distracted brain doesn't care about saving the world anymore. He just wants Steve and Misha here, now, and nowhere else.

Steve pulls no away, softly slowly, before swooping back in one more time to press a swift kiss back to his lips. Then he's kissing Misha again, who's whimpering against Bucky's chest. After that, he's gone, walking back to the quinjet. Bucky retreats back into the safety of the awning as the machines routers turn, and then slowly lifts from the ground. In the blink of an eye; it's disappearing into the colds, and Bucky’s left alone on the roof.

Misha’s blue eyes are already full of tears, and Bucky can sympathize. He’d like to cry as well.

“Don’t worry, принц.” Bucky cooed softly as the elevators slid closed. “He’ll be back soon.”

Misha gave a pitiful wail.

“Yeah, me too, принц. Me too.”

* * *

Bucky has only just been able to drift off to sleep before a piercing cry jolts him back to awareness. He rolls over with a groan and forces himself out of bed. Between Misha and worrying about Steve, it seems that sleep is not going to happen for him tonight.

He turns on one of the softer lights in the nursery and finds Misha has rolled over on to his back kicking, screaming, with big fat tears rolling down his cheeks. Bucky plucks him up and settles into the rocker. Misha stops screaming, but he’s still crying, both hands fisted around Bucky’s shirt. Bucky brushes his lips over Misha’s forehead before leaning back in the chair. When Misha huffs a weak, pouty breath, Bucky laughs.

Bucky begins to hum softly, hoping it’ll be enough to ease Misha back to sleep. Ever since Steve left, Misha has been fussy and irritable. It had taken twice as long to get him to sleep and he’d been up twice already. Bucky knew that he was teething and hasn’t been his normal self in a couple days. He still suspects that Steve’s absence isn’t helping.

Misha’s tiny breaths even out within a few minutes. Bucky leans back into the cushions and decides that he wouldn’t be leaving for a while. Misha needs to sleep, and Bucky needs to sleep, but he’s too keyed up to sleep anyway. He keeps thinking about Steve and the rest of the team— whether they’re okay. If they’ve had to fight yet. He expects yes, just because Doom never lets anyone in Latveria without permission. They haven’t heard anything yet, and FRIDAY has been told to alert him when there’s any news.

The thing is, Bucky hates feeling useless. He’s stuck in the tower while the love of his life is trying to save the world. He’s supposed to be out there with him by his side. It’s just the way they’ve always been. Bucky’s job is to pull his ass out of the fire.

He trusts his friends, he really does, but Steve in danger without him sets his teeth on edge. He understands why he’s behind and he will never sacrifice Misha's safety, but Steve’s also a stupid punk who does things he shouldn't. No one is better at stopping those idiotic things than Bucky.

He smiles down at Misha, which causes his heart to throb. He should have been happy to be home, shouldn’t he? He agreed to this after all. They knew something like this would happen. Missions together were more than likely to become a thing of the past. It’s just something to get used to.

Easier said than done.

“Did you know you’re daddy is an idiot?” Bucky speaks to fill in the space. He’s not to loud, because he doesn’t really want to wake the baby up, but he needs to talk, or he might go crazy with worry. “He is. He flew a plane into ice to save the world. He was missing me too, but he swears that didn’t have anything to do with it. Daddy lies, принц.”

Misha lets out a soft little breath that Bucky will swear to being a snicker. It makes him smile, easing away the worry for a moment. “Yeah, he is. Your grandmother would be rolling in her grave.”

Nostalgia, soft and sweet, sweeps over Bucky. A small smiles grows on his his face as he remembers the women that had raised him and Steve, and the sacrifices they’d made to do so. There’s a longing growing in his chest, a wish that they could have known Misha, that they could have known that this was possible for him and Steve. “She would have loved you, you know? They both would have. Your grandma Rogers, she was a firecracker. She used to work a lot, but she loved your Daddy something fierce. She taught me to look after him when he got sick. I can’t tell you the number of she stitched us up after Daddy got us into a fight. She had a pretty singing voice, too. When she was home, and I stayed over, she’d sing us both to sleep. I wish I could remember the songs, Misha, but I only remember that she sang.”

Bucky sighs with that familiar ache in his chest for what he can’t remember. It doesn't affect him as much these days, but times like this when he’s thinking about the past makes it harder. He wants to remember, if only because he wants to tell his son.

“Let’s see, your grandma Barnes is the best cook I’ve ever known. Chocolate cake, принц, chocolate cake. I know you haven’t even had chocolate yet, but it's the food of the gods, and my ma could make it out of nothing. Every year for my birthday, she’d somehow find the money for everything she needed. She loved me, your Daddy, and your aunts more than anything. We didn't have a lot back then, but they loved us no matter what we were. If I can love you with just a fraction of that, Misha, I can leave this world knowing I did something right.”

Misha keeps sleeping, and Bucky tells stories to the empty room and his sleeping son. He tells about the time Steve got the breath knocked out of him defending little Johhny Walker, and the black eye he got for protecting a dog from a gang of bullies. He makes it clear that he was there every time to save him, and their mothers were their to patch them up again. That’s what makes them family, Bucky admits, that they’re always there to protect each other. Just like we’ll always be there for you.”

The stories keep him company as the night stretches, and the dawn begins spreading its fingers across the the skyscraper streaked sky.

* * *

Bucky makes it to nine o’clock before he breaks and asks FRIDAY for an update.

“The Avengers are in Latveria, and are all in good health,” she helpfully replies in her crisp monotone. “That is all the information I can give you right now.”

“I guess that’s better than nothing,” Bucky grumbles under his breath. Steve probably instituted the damn gag order, and Bucky will kill him for it when he gets back. At least he’s still alive to kill later. “Thank you, FRIDAY.”

“Anything else, Sergeant Barnes?”

“Nope, that good for now.” Bucky wanders back into the living room where Misha is playing in a bouncer. He crouches next to him, more than thrilled that the boy can smile at him today. At least he’s feeling better. “Having fun there, принц? Papa is bored.”

Bored and worried, which is never a good combination. Normally, he and Steve would take Misha to the park or out on a walk, but with having no idea what's going on in Latveria, Bucky doesn’t feel comfortable going out of the safety of the tower. On impulse, because if he paces the apartment again, he was going to go crazy, so he plucks Misha from his bouncer and heads for the elevator. “Let’s go see what kind of trouble we can get into, shall we?”

Misha giggles and grabs handfuls of Bucky’s hair.

The common floor is the very top of the building with access to the roof top. Bucky figures that Misha can get some much needed air without jeopardizing safety. The part of the roof not taken up by the landing pad has been turned into a garden and patio. Like every other inch of common space in the Tower, it’s been baby proofed and baby approved. There were as many toys and devices up here as there are in the nursery.

Today, at least, Misha doesn’t seem to care. Instead, he reaches for the manchild reclining on the sofa and the dog who’s chasing a ball. “Bucky!” Pietro greets as he approaches, a lazy smile on his face and looking indignantly bored. Pietro hadn’t gone with the rest because his leg is still in a cast from the last mission he went on. From what Bucky has heard, he’s none too pleased with Wanda.

“I wondered who got stuck with Lucky.” Clint’s dog wags his tail and his tongue lolls out of his mouth. Misha reaches for the mutt with a grin, and Bucky has to swallow back the urge to run. Everyone tells him it’s perfectly safe for the kid to be around dogs, god alone knew he and Steve had been around enough muts at his age, but something in Bucky freaks at the idea of his baby and a dirty bag of germs like Lucky. Bucky still dutifully sits on the ground with Misha in his lap, but he taps Lucky’s nose gently anytime his tongue comes out of his muzzle.

“I’m not watching Lucky.” Pietro scoffs, and Bucky has to agree. He can’t see Clint trusting his best friend with the punk. “I’m just watching him so Darcy can get some work done. Apparently, you and Steve have made her job much harder than it needs to be.”

Bucky mets Petrino's challenging grin with one of his own. “So, what else is new? How exactly did you get up here on that gimpy leg there, fast guy?”

Pietro scowls, and Bucky watches as he tries to hold in a round of cursing. He’d been moodier and more obnoxious since he’d broken the leg. He’s a terrible patient, and Bucky takes perverse pleasure in throwing it back in his face. “Duck you, Bucky.”

“Thank you for controlling your mouth for once.” Bucky winks at his own double entendre and gently pushes Lucky’s nose away from Misha’s. “How did you get up here?”

“My date helped me up before she went to work.”

“You had a date?”

“I can still get dates, old man.”

“I can’t imagine how.” Bucky mutters to himself and reminds himself that this is better than pacing and worrying. “Who with?”

“I am not at liberty to say,” Pietro turns the stiff, formal words into a tease and piqued Bucky’s curiosity. He blames Natasha for making him such a busy body.

“Come on, kid. I’m great at keeping secrets.”

Pietro pauses and considers before shaking his head. “No. She might kill me. I can’t say.”

“Like you’re afraid of anyone.”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Bucky’s stopped from replying by FRIDAY cutting through their conversation. “Message from the Avengers Quinjet. Everything is taken care of. No injuries. Should be home tonight.”

Bucky and Pietro both let out excited whoops, which startles Lucky and causes him to start barking. Bucky cuddles Misha back into his chest. “You ready for Daddy to come home, kiddo? Yeah, so am I.”

* * *

It’s an hour before the quinjet makes it back, and the Avengers are dragged into debriefings as soon as it touches down. Bucky tries to keep Misha on his normal schedule while he waits on pins and needles for Steve to get back to their floor. As a result, he’s kneeling on the floor of the bathroom covered in water and soap suds. Misha is sat in the bathtub, giggling as he splashes his Papa. "This ain't how getting a bath works, kid."

Misha giggles and slams his hand back down on the water and gets the splash right in Bucky's face. Bucky sputters as Misha laughs and can't help smiling back. They're making a mess, but Misha is clearly happy. He pulls his phone from his pocket and snaps a few pictures before getting back to work.

"All right, little man, come here. You gotta get shampoo in your hair." Misha continues splashing while, Bucky reaches around to clean his dark hair. Even though he’s using that special no tears shampoo, he still doesn’t want to get it into his eyes. Misha’s squirming and wiggling and apparently has other ideas. Bucky’s seconds away from just climbing into the tub with him when he’s surprised by a voice behind him.

“I’m not sure who’s wetter, you or the baby?”

“Shut up, punk.” Bucky rolls his eyes and can’t turn around like he would like to because of a very wet, wiggly baby that he can’t let go of. “Just get over here and help me.”

“Are you beating Papa at bath time?” Steve cooes as he kneels next to Bucky on the hard floor and takes Misha, so the brunette can finish washing the soap from his hair.

Neither of them are quite prepared for the excitement in Misha that makes him vibrate when he sees Steve, or the way his eyes go wide and thrilled. They’re even less prepared for the excited babbling. “Da da da da!”

Steve and Bucky both freeze in shock as Misha struggles out from under Bucky’s hands. Steve’s wide blue eyes meet Bucky’s for a moment, wonder making them seem so much bigger. “Did he just…”

“He just talked!” Bucky squeals with excitement, which only makes Misha happier. “Come on, say Papa. Pa-Pa.”

“Da da da da.” He continued without taking his eyes from Steve. Bucky can’t blame him in the least. He would never take his eyes from Steve either if he had the option.

He still wants to smack Steve for that stupid grin. “I guess I’m just the favorite now. Sorry, baby.”

Bucky splashes him with water right in the face. Misha laughs as his father sputters, and it’s the best form of retaliation that he has. “Just help me clean him up and get him dressed while I clean up in here, Dada.”

Steve flushes in pleasure at the name, but they are able to finish his bath. Steve takes Misha back to the nursery while Bucky cleans the bathroom and changes his wet cloths. He finds them again in the living room. Steve’s gotten Misha to sleep, but he looks more than content just to rock him in the rocking chair. Bucky falls onto the couch next to him and waits for his turn. “He talked.”

“I know.” He sounds as awed as Bucky feels. “Bucky, he’s getting so big.”

“Don’t remind me. His birthday is in three months.”

“I’m not ready, Bucky.” Steve admits quietly.

“Neither am I, pal.” Bucky changes the subject, not ready to think about his son being a year old yet. “How was Latveria?”

Steve snorts and rolls his eyes, which earns a chuckle from Bucky. “The same as it always is. Bring in Doom is like beating your head against a brick wall, but at least the world hasn’t ended.”

Bucky widdles the details out of Steve, and Bucky has to admit, going after Victor Von Doom is pointless. He’s just glad they all came home safely.

“Steve?” Bucky catches Steve’s attention and almost doesn’t continue. Steve’s face is so open, soft, and adoring after gazing at their son’s face that Bucky’s heart melts. It’s not often that he gets to see Steve like this. He’s not worrying about the future or about the mission that he just got off of. There’s no pressing need from the team and nothing to bother them from SHIELD. Steve is fully in the moment, and that happens so rarely Bucky doesn’t want to ruin it. So instead, he shrugs and drags his chair closer to Steve’s till he can rest his head on the Steve’s shoulder and share the view.

“Bucky? What is it?”

“It doesn’t matter.” It’s a simple truth. Tomorrow they will deal with both of them going back to work, they will deal with the outside that is slowly creeping in on them, but for this moment, Bucky has everything right where he wants them and for once, just once, Steve doesn’t argue.

* * *

“Bucky, you need to breath, baby, okay?” Steve cups his husband's cheeks between his palms and forces his attention from the hustling room and on to him. Bucky’s harsh breathing is too fast, and with their son in his arms, this isn’t the place to have a panic attack. His sea grey eyes are wide, taking too much in. Steve takes a chance and crowds in on him, narrowing his world down to just him. It doesn’t always work, sometimes Bucky needs space, but Steve thinks in this situation he might just need a little focus.

Bucky takes in a shaky breath and another when Steve prompts him. Steve leans in, nuzzling his nose into the hair just over Bucky’s ear where he can whisper encouragement and pull the shaking man into his arms. Misha quite happily grabs a hank of Bucky dark hair and pulls sharply. Bucky chuckles through his winch, and Steve disentangles hair from Misha’s fingers while soft admonishing him. The sensory effect though is enough to pull Bucky back into himself. Or at least enough that it has Bucky turning into Steve’s embrace and acceptance.

“Sorry.” Bucky mutters while he adjusts Misha in his arms so that he’s not so squished between them. “I didn’t mean to get so lost. I’m just nervous.”

“Don’t apologize.” Steve rubs his hand up and down Bucky’s back soothingly. “We don’t have to do this, you know? It’s not too late to back out.”

“We already talked about this. It’s a good thing. We can’t keep living under a rock. Best to do it on our terms.” Bucky’s jaw takes on a stubborn edge, but he does curl into a little closer to Steve.

The blonde sighs and eyes the backstage area that surrounds them. He knows Bucky is right, but he still hoped Bucky would back out of what they were about to do before he could.

What they were about to do is sit down and talk with at least half the country watching them.

Ever since the first press release and picture, they had realised the public has become more and more interested in Steve, Bucky, and their little family. Not a day went by that Darcy and Pepper weren’t bringing them copies of papers with their fuzzy pictures in them (the paparazzi were afraid to get too close Bucky to get good pictures) and speculation about what they and Misha were up to. Most everything is positive, or genuinely curious. People want to know how they’d gotten Misha and where he was from. Of course there were those, like Fox News, who are complaining that not only had Steve ruined the symbol of Captain America by marrying a man, but now they were both raising a child and how it was such a disgrace to the traditional family.

It’s only those attacks, which have finally prompted Steve to bring up this idea with Bucky. He’s never been able to handle people slandering Bucky, and adding Misha to the mix had the added benefit of making his blood boil. Since he can’t very well go punch every single person who has ever used those words against his boys, this is the second best thing. A interview. He and Bucky will talk about what they’d gone through to have a family. Pepper is positive that they will have the public eating out of their very charming hands long before they are finished. They will only bring out Misha for a little bit near the end.

The hardest part, after he’d spent a month talking Bucky into this idea, is finding an interviewer they trust and who will do it. Fox is out of the question, and Steve has managed to piss off every single major news outlet at least once. NBC is the one who had finally accepted their deal, though they haven’t been happy about it since. In classic Steve fashion, he’d called them on their shit more than once. Steve and Bucky had picked their interviewer, a sweet young woman named Jessica who is sharp as a tack and reminds Steve a lot of Peggy.

All they had left to do was go through with it. Fortunately, Steve has expected Bucky to get nervous backstage and sought him out as soon he, Jessica, and Darcy had finished their last minute prep. Steve is more aware than ever that this is meant to protect more than just Misha. It’s also to shield Bucky. He has put up with more than enough shit since he’d come home. He deserves a chance to be known for more than just the Winter Soldier. Steve wants everyone else to get to know the man that he had long been in love with. More importantly, he wants to present the man he has fallen in love with in a hundred new ways since the first time Bucky had held Misha in his arms.

That didn't mean that this isn’t nerve wracking. They are both private people, and they’re doing this without their friends beside them. They will be behind them, waiting backstage. Everyone is here in fact, except Pepper, who’s working, but demanding constant updates from Tony.

For the moment, Steve holds Bucky close and lets him calm down somewhere safe. Misha makes himself known again by grabbing Steve’s tie and  babbling, “Dadadada.”

Steve grins the way he always does when his son recognizes his name. He can’t get over the fact that this little life knows him and calls him dada. His heart is fluttering like a butterfly as he meets Misha’s blue eyes. He doesn’t try to take him from Bucky arms, knowing that Misha’s weight is helping to ground him, but that doesn’t stop Steve from holding out his hand so Misha can place his smaller palm inside his own.

“Playing favorites again, принц?” Bucky’s deep voice teases. Misha smiles in recognition, though he doesn’t say anything. He hasn’t gotten to anything but Dada yet. Steve, personally, can’t wait to see Bucky’s eyes light in the first time he says Papa.

“Alright, boys.” Natasha sneaks up on them silently, appearing at their elbows like a vapor. “Time to get this show on the road. Hand me the kid.”

Bucky pouts exaggeratingly, making a face almost exactly like Misha’s when he gets a toy taken away. “Go away, Natasha. He’s mine. Get your own.”

“Nana!” Misha squeals, reaching for his aunt. Steve and Bucky’s jaws drop before the second shocker in so many seconds. Natasha’s face turns red. Not cute red either. She’s a tomato.

There’s absolute silence for the space of heartbeat before Bucky gathers his wits. “Seriously, kid? You’re gonna say Natasha before Papa? Your Dada is gonna stay up with you next time you’re teething.”

The boy giggles as Natasha takes him, still a little pink. “You two go. Kick some butt. Save the world. You’ll see him in a little bit.”

There’s kisses and snuggles before the they completely surrender the boy. They’ll have him back in exactly forty minutes, but then they’ll be on display for the whole world. Steve has to pull Bucky away and toward the opening to the stage. He can't blame him after all. He doesn't like letting Misha out of his sight either, but it's all about the boundaries they've been trying to learn.

One of the directors tells them where to pause and wait for their cue.Steve takes it as a chance to pull Bucky back into the circle of his arms and kisses him one last time for luck. "Feeling okay?" he asks.

Bucky smiles back, full of spark and charm that can win the whole world over if he wants. It's a dangerous superpower, and never ceases to make Steve feel warm and fuzzy inside. "I'm good. I freaked out back there. It won't happen again."

"You remember the sign if you need to back out?"

"Yes, you crazy loon." Bucky uses his metal hand on the back of his neck to pull Steve down where he can kiss him. "Prospect Park, where we kissed the first time. It's okay. Stop worrying."

"Can't."

"I know." One last kiss, and then their being dragged out into the spotlight, fingers still tangled tightly together.

* * *

The interview starts out easy enough.

"How is life treating you?"

"We've never been happier,” Steve smiles, settling back into the couch.

"The late nights aren't too bad on supersoldiers, huh?"

"We're past the late nights. Now he's mobile. Not walking yet, but you should see how fast he can crawl.”

Bucky takes up the tale for a moment. “We had to kid proof Tony's lab last week. He's still sulking."

Jessica laughs with them, and it's the last easy question. They have a vague idea of what she's going to ask and the topics she's not allowed to bring up, but that doesn't mean that they won't have to dredge up things they don't like. That's part of what this is about, coming clean so that maybe they can keep their family safe.

"Let's start at the beginning." Jessica smiles gently, trying to put them at ease. "You were both raised in a time when the idea of two mean raising a child would have been unheard of. How do you think your family and friends would feel about this now?"

Bucky squeezes Steve's hand, code that he can take point on this. He's not surprised and he knows exactly where to start. "Well, I can tell you that Peggy is thrilled. I got to tell her about six months ago, and I haven't seen her that happy in a long time. She even wanted to know what took us so long.”

There’s a shared chuckle, and Bucky smirks because doesn’t that sound just like Peggy.

“I don’t think the Commandos would trust us with a kid.”

“To be fair,” Bucky cuts in dryly with a wicked twinkle in his eye. “I wouldn’t have trusted any of them with a baby either.”

Another laugh and Jessica jumps back in. “If half the stories I’ve heard are true, we would all agree. Talk me through the decision to have a child. What made you decide to do this?”

“Steve watched a commercial.”

“That isn’t the whole story.” Steve gapes in indignation while simultaneously turning that shade of pink that Bucky secretly loves. “There might have been a commercial where two men are seen with a baby, and it got to me to thinking...but I’ve always wanted a family. The war might have derailed that dream a little bit, but it was always in the back of my mind. Besides, you only have to see Bucky with a kid once to want more of it.”

Bucky playfully rolls his eyes at Steve, but he can’t hide the open adoration on his face.

“So, we’ve established that it’s Steve’s idea. Were you right on board, Bucky?”

Steve squeezes Bucky’s hand, softly encouraging as he can’t answer this for Bucky. He isn't alone though. Never that.

“Um, no, I wasn’t.” Bucky admits softly, almost like he’s ashamed of it. Steve scoots subtly closer, as if he can shield the other man from the words with his body. “There were a lot of late night conversations before I came around.”

“What was holding you back?” she asks gently.

Bucky takes a deep breath, preparing to admit to something that he never has before. He and Steve have talked about this, they knew this question was coming, and they'd decided to be honest. Bucky doesn’t like admitting to his fears, but he’s here now and he will survive this.

“Steve and I, we weren’t really raised with fathers. At least not good ones.” Bucky starts slowly, his eyes constantly darting to Steve’s face before growing more comfortable in his subject. “Steve’s dad died in the Great War. I mean, World War One. My pa ... he was, well, he was an angry man. He would probably have been diagnosed with PTSD if he had been around now. Only instead of medication and therapy, he had booze. I know the stories are always that I got my childhood injures pulling Steve out of fights, but that wasn’t always the truth.”

"He hit you?"

"He beat me." Bucky says emotionlessly. "I took it so that my mother and sisters didn't have to."

Steve's grip on Bucky tightens again. He's always hated that man. Bucky used to show up on his mother's doorstep all black and blue with swollen eyes and bloody lips. George Barnes is the one bully Steve had never gotten to deal with, and it’s always festered under his skin.

Bucky and Jessica talk for a little bit about abuse and alcoholism, and how that can affect the kids involved. Bucky admits to his fear that he’s afraid he will turn out just as bad as his father.

"So, Steve changed your mind?"

"Actually, it was Barton."

"Hawkeye?"

"Yeah, we've got similar backgrounds in a lot of ways, you know? He just reminded me that we don't have to follow the patterns that our families laid out for us. I'm sure I'll fuck up in a lot of ways, but I at least know how to love my kid."

"Let's move on." Jessica offers a sympathetic smile, and Steve can't resist planting a soft kiss on Bucky's cheek, just to show how proud he is of him. "Was adoption always your first choice, or did you consider surrogacy first?"

"It was always pretty much adoption." Steve waits for Bucky to nod before he keeps going. "I mean, again, we go back to our pasts. We knew a lot of orphans growing up. I almost was one, and then war orphans were always something the Commandos were concerned about. We just couldn't see us not helping when we had the chance, and Misha certainly needed the chance."

"Where did you adopt him from?"

"Russia," Steve replies.

Bucky chuckles. "Ironic, I know."

"Since you brought it up," Steve swallows thickly and sits up straighter, more than prepared to stop this if he has to. Bucky doesn't have to explain himself to anyone and if it gets to be too much, Steve has no qualms calling out the media's bullshit. "Sergeant Barnes, would you like to address any of the statements that have been said against you?"

"Well, for starters, how I was approved for adoption is no one’s business but mine, Steve's, and the adoption agency’s, but since we're here...yeah. I have something to say." Steve has to fight the urge to snicker. This is the Bucky he loves best: fiery, passionate, and outspoken. He leans back into his seat, prepared to watch the show. "For starters, I was exonerated of all crimes while I was the Winter Soldier, and I've fought alongside Steve and the rest of the Avengers ever since. Second, yes, I suffer from PTSD. Anyone who's been brainwashed and tortured like I was; would. I've also been in therapy and on various forms of medication ever Steve brought me in from the cold. Do you know what else? I still have the right to be a father. We don't take kids away from soldiers returning from war. Why? Because families love each other, and love is one of the best ways to fight what I and thousands of other americans suffer from, and maybe if we started dealing with and treating mental illness instead of shoving it under the rug because we didn't want to deal with it, we'd all be a little bit healthier. Would I have done this three or two years ago? Probably not. But Steve, I, and my doctors all agreed I have this right and anyone not familiar with my case can butt the fuck out."

"Anything to add, Captain Rogers?"

“No.” Steve shakes his head and spares Bucky a sweet, adoring look that will be felt through the TV screen. No one watching them will be able to deny what they clearly feel for each other. “But for the record, I have PTSD too, so if anyone has a problem with him, they have a problem with me.”

After that, the interview drifts to happier topics. What life is like with a new baby, how the Avengers had taken the news, who gets stuck with diaper duty the most? Bucky snickers and claims he gets the worst of it, while Steve does his best to look offended. Steve and Bucky don’t have to struggle to appear genuine. What you see is what you get with them, and no can listen to them talk and not realize how much they adore their son and each other.

When they bring Misha out, he sits on both their laps, climbs over their shoulders, and says ‘dada’ with a toothy grin. Bucky gets proved right. No one can resist him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just the epilogue left!


	5. Babies and Princes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry this took so long! All my fault. I owe such a huge debt to MyHerion for beting this. She's just the best and I love to her pieces.

** Epilogue **

**Babies and Princes**

"You think the park would be more fun if he would learn to walk?"

It’s still early in the fall, but the heat wasn't oppressive anymore. Bucky can't help snickering at the two heads pressed close together under the monkey bars. Steve is holding Misha up while he giggles, urging him to grab the bars.

"You think he'd learn to walk if we ever put him down?" Steve snickers. It is a pressing concern on them. At a year old Misha should at least be starting to walk, but he's only just pulling himself up. The pediatrician is telling them not to worry too much yet, and Bucky's only just gotten home from a two week op with Natasha. For the moment, it's still easier to make jokes.

Steve smiles sympathetically, and steps out of the playground to slide up to Bucky's side. Misha reaches for his Papa, who takes him without a second thought. Steve winds an arm around Bucky's waist and gently begins towing them back up the street toward home.

"The doctor said its nothing to be worried about yet." Steve says encouragingly, though he can't completely hide the tremble of apprehension in voice. "Kids develop on their own timetables."

"Just keep an eye on it." The words taste bitter on Bucky's tongue. He can all too easily remember white coated goons saying the same thing about Steve's cough every time it had turned into pneumonia.

"It'll be fine." Steve assures him and is quick to change the subject. "In the meantime, our little guy is a year old. That's a big deal."

Misha smiles at his Daddy from his position resting on his Papa's shoulder. Bucky has to admit, this isn't the day to be worrying. They've been celebrating all day. Steve made pancakes for breakfast, then there were presents, play times, and naps for Misha and Bucky. They'd been at the park for most of the afternoon, and though he isn’t walking yet they’d taken him down slides and swung him in the swing. They caught the puppet show and walked through the park enjoying their time. Time for just the three of them had been reduced with Steve and Bucky going back to work.

Bucky snorts as he readjusts Misha on his arm, switching to his left so there’s less strain on his arm. Kid really needed to learn how to walk. “Can you believe that a year ago we didn't even know that he existed?”

“What did we do with our life?” Steve replied sarcastically. He pushes a dark strand of baby hair out of Misha’s face, who rewards him with a giggle and smile.

“Daddy!” He squealed with excitement and reaches for Steve, but when the blond went to pick him up Misha spoke up again. “No. Papa.”

“Okay. Fine.” Steve pretends to pout which earns him an even bigger smile from Misha. “Stay with Papa. See if I care.”

Misha’s face falls, and Bucky has to hide a snicker. When Misha got older they were gonna have a hell of a time with snark from his mouth. Then again, the kid was screwed from the moment he ended up with the two of them.

When the tower came into view, Misha began bouncing excitedly. “Fwy, Papa, fwy!”

“You wanna fly, принц?” Misha screams in excitement, and Bucky knows he will never be able to fight back against that. “Guess we’ll see you inside, Stevie.”

“Have fun.” Bucky just barely heard Steve before he was moving Misha to sit on his shoulders and took off in a run toward home. Bucky’s careful to avoid the crowds and not run anyone over, but he goes as fast as he can to make it seem like Misha is flying. Bucky had done this a month ago when they were walking home from the park, and now Misha demanded it every time. Bucky’s all too willing to oblige.

He pulls Misha down when they reach the lobby and settles him back on his arm. Bucky can’t help dropping a kiss on his flushed cheek. While they wait for Steve, he takes to waltzing across the carpet earning yet another grin in return.

Sometimes it scares Bucky to think about the things he will do for Misha. If anything were to ever happen to his son, anything at all, he would tear the world down without a second thought. Steve has said as much as well. The most dangerous thing in the world might not be the atomic bomb, but a one year old boy.

Bucky completes a turn and stops when he sees Steve watching them. Steve’s eyes are warm, sweet, and Bucky can’t help turning red as he takes Misha from him. “You never dance with me anymore.” Steve pretends to pout, and Bucky rolls his eyes.

“We’ll put him to bed tonight and I’ll show you dancing,” he mutters.

“I’m looking forward to it.”

“Just get on the elevator, ya punk.”

There’s nothing immediately wrong in their apartment, which in hindsight should have been Bucky’s first warning. They’ve barely turned on the lights before their idiotic friends are jumping up from behind their furniture screaming, “Surprise!”

Bucky jumps about a foot in the air, and Steve has his shield on his arm in two seconds before they realize what’s going on.

Their living room is covered in red, white, and blue streamers and signs declaring Happy Birthday, Misha! Their friends all look smug in their surprise and Misha is squirming to get out of Steve’s arms.

“Forgetting to plan a birthday.” Tony fakes looking completely disgusted as Misha finally slips from Steve and crawls toward Clint. “I am completely appalled.”

“You would forget to sleep if Pepper did force you too, so I don’t wanna hear it.” Bucky rolls his eyes and claims a spot on the floor next to a mound of brightly wrapped packages. “Besides, when we have friends like you.”

“You already live in my building without rent, oof.” Tony turns appropriately sweet after Pepper elbows him the stomach. “I mean, it was no problem. We were happy to do it.”

"Thank you," Steve says, taking in the presents piled high next to Bucky that they had bought for their son. The generosity is touching and sweet. Steve’s blushes a little realising how much they all loved Misha. “You guys didn’t have to.”

“Of course we did.” Wanda’s accent is soft and understated, but it makes her voice no less strong or certain. “You get a first birthday once, and we wanted to celebrate, too. We gave you all day. Now it's our turn.”

“Fair enough.” Bucky twirls one of the packages around his fingers. “I mean, we always had big family things when we were kids. The kid deserves that. Misha, come here.”

Bucky opens his arms and wiggles his metal fingers, still a guaranteed way to get the boy to some to him. He settles Misha in his lap and places the wrapped package in his lap. “Come on. You gotta grab the paper and rip it.”

It’s takes a couple of presents before Misha settles into it, but he’s ripping into the paper like it's the gift. There’s a new assortment of toys piled up while Misha plays with the boxes, bows, and paper. Bucky grabs the toy bow Clint had gotten and tests the string.

“That’s Misha’s, Bucky,” Clint corrects and Bucky grins.

“You just don’t think I can hit accurately with it because it's made of plastic.”

Clint scoffs and rolls his eyes. “I dare you.”

Natasha shakes her head and smoothly leaves her spot next to him. “I am not getting involved in this.”

Bucky lands the sucker tipped arrow to the middle of the Clint's forehead with a snicker.

“That doesn’t prove anything, Bucky.”

“Just that I never miss either.”

Clint groans while Misha climbs into his lap. He reaches for the arrow, and Clint lowers his head so that the one year can pull it off. He plays up it hurting as Misha’s eyes go wide, but he laughs as Clint sweeps him up to rest over his shoulder. “I think there’s cake somewhere. Let’s go find cake, Misha.”

Steve and Bucky follow a little more slowly, arms around each other, and with mutual groans when they see two cakes each done up as Steve’s shield.

“You’re all assholes,” Steve mutters to his utterly unrepentant friends.

Misha ends up covered in icing from his soft brown hair to the bottoms of his feet. Nat and Pepper gleefully snap pictures as he stuffs his face with cake.

“Just think. In about eighteen months that will be our baby.”

Poor Pepper forgets that she’s surrounded by superhumans with sensitive ears. Her face goes immediately red as the assembled Avengers turn to stare at her and Tony. Bucky’s flabbergasted, and perhaps a little scared. If Howard having a kid wasn’t terrifying then, Tony having offspring was certainly worse. But then again, he thinks to himself. It will be half Pepper, and that’s not nothing.”

“Congratulations!” Thor booms, shaking them out of their stupper. There’s shouts of praise and hugs. Bucky doesn’t miss the spark of pride in Steve’s eyes as he shakes Tony’s shoulder. He also doesn’t miss Natasha’s knowing eyes from the other side of the room and remembers a conversation they had just after they came back to the tower. He just shrugs at her and sweeps Pepper into a careful hug.

“I’ve been saying that Misha needed a cousin.” Pepper laughs, and Tony rolls his eyes.

“Please, with these genes,” Tony waves a hand between himself and Pepper. “You’re kid doesn’t stand a chance.”

“Don’t listen to him, принц.” Bucky calls across the room as Steve pulls their son from his high chair. “He doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”

“I’ve been meaning to ask, what does принц mean?” Darcy butchers the Russian word in a way that only Darcy Lewis can earning a chuckle from Natasha, Wanda, and Pietro.

Bucky’s cheeks turn red, but he admits to the meaning anyway. “It means prince. I thought it was appropriate.”

“Very.” Steve agrees with a kiss pressed to his cheek. Misha moves from his daddy’s arms to his papa’s, but keeps one fist in Steve’s shirt.

Sam shoves them from the room and promises that they’ll clean up. Wanda tells Pietro he can do it the fastest, but the punk whines that’s an abuse of his superpowers. Bucky shrugs and follows Steve to the bathroom to clean Misha up. Then maybe he convince the two of them to cuddle in their bed.

After all, it's not every day your son turns one.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is this the end? NO! I have no idea how to stop. LOL Just click the series button up there and then subscribe. Christmas is next and of course Steve, Bucky, and Misha are gonna get in a little bit of trouble so look out for that. Thank you for reading, kudos, and comments. You guys are the best! You can always follow my [Tumblr](http://everydaybella.tumblr.com/) for more updates.

**Author's Note:**

> Few little things, this is the [commercial](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2xeanX6xnRU) Steve watches. It's pretty sweet. My friend NotThatAmanda showed it to me when I was having trouble getting this whole thing started. Thank you darling!
> 
> Also come hang out with me on [tumblr](http://everydaybella.tumblr.com/)!


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